


Naruto: Kunoichi in the Prison Camps

by The_Dark_Watcher



Category: Naruto
Genre: Aging, Bad Ending, Branding, Corporal Punishment, Cruelty, Dark, Dom/sub, F/M, Flogging, Gangbang, Head Shaving, Loss of Powers, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pregnancy, Prison, Prison Sex, Prostitution, Whipping, Years Later, You Have Been Warned, broken spirit, hard labour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Watcher/pseuds/The_Dark_Watcher
Summary: Sakura Haruno, Ino Yamanaka, Temari Sabaku, and Hinata Hyūga are caught committing a heinous crime in a country far away from the protection of their friends in Konoha or Suna.Their punishment: Over thirty years hard labour in a prison work camp. How will our kunoichi fare as the years go by?





	1. Year Zero

**This story is heavily inspired by an incredibly dark story I read years ago called Croft Hard Labour, written by Marcus on dangerbabecentral. Just to make myself clear, this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. None of what will go on in this story is okay, and I condone none of it. Anyone who thinks this should be done to women in real life should seek mental health counselling at best, or a prison sentence at worst.**

**With that disclaimer out of the way, I hope you enjoy this story if it floats your boat. This will be the set up chapter.**

From the Office of the Director of Foreign and Shinobi Affairs for the Land of Quarries:

I have been directed by my superiors to write this brief document detailing the events concerning the internment and treatment of several criminal Kunoichi who were detained some thirty-six years ago on theft and espionage charges. This has been decided upon following their release and subsequent protests from their home countries.

This tale began when I was merely a junior minister. Very shortly after what is now called the ‘Fourth Shinobi War’, a squad of shinobi and kunoichi were spotted crossing the border into our territory. Our beloved homeland is renowned for its bountiful quarries which provide rare minerals that cannot be found anywhere else, so it was assumed that this team were after these materials. Not initially wanting to spark an incident, we adopted a ‘wait and see’ approach in the hope that this group of ninja were just passing through on some other endeavour. Unfortunately this was not the case. This ninja team were discovered attempting to smuggle approximately one metric ton of our rare earth minerals into their home territories. **This was an unpardonable offense.**

Our own security forces took swift and decisive action. They caught the foreign ninja by surprise and defeated them. Regrettably the shinobi members of their team perished in the initial ambush, but we were fortunate enough to capture the remaining kunoichi alive and relatively intact.

The surviving kunoichi, after being stripped, having their chakra sealed, and had a full body cavity search performed, were interrogated to discover why they attempted to steal from us. Their training did them credit however, and they steadfastly refused to explain themselves. This was fine, as their reasoning for the crime did not matter. We were, however, able to acquire their identities.

They were identified as one Sakura Haruno, Ino Yamanaka, Hinata Hyūga, and Temari Sabaku. This was the only information they willingly divulged. It was believed that the only reason they told our interrogators was to overawe them into releasing them. It was a clever ploy, as these women had become famous after the war, and three of them were from prominent families in their respective homelands. However! No matter how famous these women were, they were still criminals and would be treated as such.

The criminals were swiftly brought before our magistrates to be tried in a closed court. The verdict was never in doubt. Each woman was found guilty and sentenced to thirty years hard labour in Women’s work camp #1, #2, #3 and #4 respectively.

As soon as their sentences were pronounced, they were whisked away for processing. This was also the first time that I had personally faced the four criminals. My then current role as a minister was related to the treatment of foreign criminals, so it was my duty to oversee them now that they were convicted. I must say they were all striking beauties. The exotic pink locks of the criminal Sakura, the alluring criminal Ino, the harsh desert beauty of the criminal Temari, and the aristocratic features of the criminal Hinata. Each one of them glared at me with such defiance and arrogance. They were something special indeed, and I wondered then how thirty years in a criminal work camp would change them. But I digress, I shall continue to explain their processing.

The women had had their clothing returned to them during their court hearing, but now that they were tried criminals that would never do. These arrogant kunoichi were once again stripped of their clothing. We stored the items away in our evidence lockers and we promised that we would return them… thirty years from now. However due to security cautions we were forced to burn their weapons and other personal effects in case they turned out to be dangerous. This was done in front of them to ensure they knew we were not lying when we told them we destroyed them. The expression of helpless rage on the face of the kunoichi Temari as we burned her war fan was particularly satisfying.

Stripped naked I could observe their bodies in greater detail. Years of Kunoichi training had left them all with fit and firm bodies, but with voluptuous curves in all the right places. They all had the bodies of trained gymnasts, though with larger breasts than you would expect a gymnast to have. After a few years in the work camps to pack on muscle and break their spirits we would get the work of a carthorse out of every one of them!

Next, their heads were shaved. They were not happy at all when they were told of this, but without chakra they were unable to prevent our attendants from restraining them and cutting their hair away. Each of them moaned piteously during the entire procedure. The explanation that it was to prevent the spread of lice in the camps did not seem to cheer them. We went further and explained that the hair would also be collected to make wigs for children, but that did not seem to give them much comfort either. Of course, any possible comfort gained was lost when we told them that this would be an annual process. An interesting note, the pink wigs later made from the criminal Sakura during her incarceration here have since become collector’s items. I had the foresight to realise that this would one day be the case and had the first wig made from her hair this day be delivered to me. I have since sold it for a very tidy sum.

After being stripped and shaved, the criminal women were then cleaned thoroughly with jets of cold water for sanitation reasons and then deloused. They did not look so impressive now, naked, shivering, near-bald, and still scratching themselves from the itchy delousing powder. Less than a day into their sentence and they were already feeling the weight of their crimes. For the most part however, they had remained silent throughout the process, still stubbornly refusing to give us the satisfaction of screaming or openly wailing. This would change when they were told that they would be branded with their prisoner ID number.

Each of them fought like wildcats to avoid this. But as skilled as they were, they were unable to resist when four burly men carried them one-by-one into the branding room. To ensure that there could be no mistake in criminal status, every criminal is branded in three locations. In the case of a female prisoner that happened to be on one buttock, above one breast, and on one shoulder. Well behaved prisoners even get to choose which side, a great show of leniency. These kunoichi were far from obedient, of course. But despite all of their fighting and their vaunted ‘taijutsu’ each of them were held down and sullenly received their prisoner brands. Following my duty, I observed them closely as the brands were placed. The girls stubbornly refused to cry out at first, but no one could help but scream by the third. Sure enough, when the third brand was placed on their large buttocks every single one of these criminal women screamed without exception.

The pain of the brands is said to last for days, and already tears have been shed. We cheerfully explained that the brands would be refreshed if they become too faded over their decades long sentence, which loosened a few more tears. We also saved the best for last. To their expressions of horror and disbelief we explained that their status as kunoichi entitled them to a _fourth_ brand. The chakra suppressing seals placed on them were only ink after all and we were not going to the expense of sending a seal master out every few months to reapply it. No, we would brand the seal into their flesh, ensuring that they would not be able to use their fancy ninjutsu during their incarceration.

This brought about the most furious protests yet. The criminals Sakura and Ino attempted to attack me then and there, but our security teams forced them into submission. The criminal Hinata was openly sobbing at this point, and the criminal Temari stated that a permanent brand would last more than their thirty year prison sentence, which was unethical. We assured them that unlike the other brands, the chakra seal brand would not be constantly renewed, unless for rebellious behaviour. Also, our seal master promised that it would be faded enough that they would be able to use chakra again after their prison sentence. What we did not tell them, was that they would never be able to use their full chakra capacity ever again no matter how much the seal faded. By the time they finish their sentences, they would be in their late forties and their ninja career would be over anyway, so why should they care?

The fourth brand was applied to their lower abdomen to much screaming and wailing. These decadent kunoichi believed themselves to be better than everyone else due to their ability to use chakra. But with the fourth brand applied and their chakra taken away they were now just another group of criminal scum in need of rehabilitation. You could see the terror in their eyes, the knowledge of what was taken away from them. All of this harsh treatment has certainly come as quite a shock. Well too bad. This is prison! They should have thought of the consequences before committing crimes in our country.

After the branding was done with, they were all provided with the standard issue gear for all prisoners in the work camps. A sturdy pair of boots, a work belt, and a permanent slave collar that would remain around their necks until their sentence was finished. As expected they all questioned the lack of a prison uniform, and I truthfully told them that there wasn’t one. We had already wasted money on fine hard leather to adorn their feet, waist and neck, we certainly weren’t going to waste anymore. They would spend their thirty year prison sentence naked. There was actually little protest over this, I expect the entire process had stunned them too much, and this was just another extra hardship on the pile. Fear not, the Land of Quarries are very warm, with near constant sunshine for most of the year, so they would not feel cold. Indeed the locations of our work camps are in the hottest place in the country, with temperatures frequently going as high as forty degrees Celsius. They may thank us for the lack of encumbering clothing then. Although I’m curious to find out what constant sun exposure does to that soft supple skin of theirs, especially the criminal Hinata’s snow-white complexion.

After this, the four prisoners were fitted with leg irons and handcuffs that were connected via chains on their boots, work belt and collar. These were temporary additions to prevent them from performing a last-minute escape attempt before being transported to their respective work camps. I advised them to take one good look at each other, as it was the last time they would see each other for the next few decades. The criminals made some tearful farewells along with some pointless vow to find each other soon before being marched to separate exits.

It was decided to separate these women in separate camps in order to limit any attempt at escape. Even with their chakra sealed, each of them were still trained kunoichi, so nothing was left to chance. Each work camp were many miles away from each other and even further away from any other populated area, so there was no chance of them finding each other. Besides a naked woman on foot in the middle of nowhere would be easy to recapture if such a thing were to occur.

Each of them were blindfolded to ensure they would not be able to find their way back, and were transported to their respective work camps. I was not personally present when they arrived at their camps, but the procedure would have been exactly the same for all of them. Their chains would have been removed for use with another future prisoner, and they would have then been introduced to the Warden. The Warden would have then explained the camp routine:

Every morning inmates arise at 6.00am. They are taken to communal showers and then served breakfast. They are then marched to their daily assigned station at the stone quarry to begin work. At 1.00pm there is a break for a main meal and then they resume work until 8.00pm when they are allowed to return to their sleeping pallets in their assigned bunkhouse. Any slacking or laziness during the day, or a failure to reach their required work quota would result in being whipped by the guards. According to the reports each kunoichi were asked if they understood this, and they all stated they did.

Over the next week I would make the journey to each of the four work camps to personally check in on how our kunoichi prisoners were settling in. All four Wardens were given strict instructions to be on guard for any ninja tricks, but to otherwise treat them like any other prisoner.

After providing the Wardens instructions I then spent an entire day in each camp inspecting the new prisoners. It was always a stimulating sight, watching a big-breasted naked woman, almost indistinguishable amongst all the other naked prisoners, working hard in the quarries. The sight of them toiling away and sweating under the hot sun, with the occasional hard whipping across the back or buttocks whenever they slowed down was a joyous sight. Rehabilitation in action! Satisfied that the kunoichi had been successfully inducted into the camp routine, I travelled back to the home offices to finish my reports and update their case files.

One final note before I break the report down to discuss the prisoners individually. The largest criticism the Land of Quarries has ever received regarding our domestic policies is of our female inmates whoring themselves out to the guards.

This occurs because the gruel provided for their breakfast and dinner are barely nationally adequate, and tasteless. If an inmate wishes to have the protein, vitamins and calories necessary to accomplish their work quotas then it is necessary to negotiate with the guards for better food. Naturally, the inmates have nothing to bargain with except for sexual favours. Guarding a women’s work camp is a job with long hours and low pay, but no guard has _ever_ asked to be transferred to another role.

At first, our four kunoichi inmates steadfastly refuse to sell their bodies for food. However, they all soon realise that extra food was the only way they would survive their decade’s long internment in the work camp. Within a week three of the kunoichi are fucking the guards like all the rest, with only inmate Hinata lasting another week before she too begins whoring herself out. All four kunoichi all show great talent in the sexual arts, and they all soon become the most popular fuck in their respective work camps. Also, apparently, all four of them were virgins, which made their initial popularity even greater. Indeed, they get so much extra food that they would have become fat if it were not for their thirteen hour long heavy-duty work shifts. This did not endear them to the other prisoners in their camps, but any prisoner’s attempt to beat them for it had failed thanks to their taijutsu skills.

I shall now break down the report individually for each inmate as their situations begin to somewhat diverge from here. Please turn to the next file in the document which reviews their first year of incarceration.


	2. Year One

This following report is specific to the first year of our four foreign kunoichi’s interment. My superiors were understandably nervous in having kunoichi in our prison system. True to expectations, they proved to be quite volatile prisoners in their first year.

Year One – Sakura Haruno:

Sakura Haruno had proven herself to be a most troublesome inmate, and the most rebellious of the four kunoichi who were detained.

At first we believed that as she did not come from the same high-born family background as the other three, Sakura would be most used to common labour. But this turned out not to be the case. Sakura, according to what we later discovered, was actually the personal apprentice of her home Village’s leader, their Hokage. So she too was someone of high social rank before her just imprisonment. Sakura was used to standing in the corridors of power, listening in and giving opinions while great leaders made decisions. Now, she would spend the next thirty years naked and performing backbreaking menial labour. All the while being burnt by the sun and whipped if she slowed down by men she would have considered so far beneath her as to be insignificant. She did not take it well.

There were several instances where Inmate Sakura actively fought back against the guards when they whipped her for unsatisfactory work. This only resulted in more whipping, so this behaviour began to fade after about a week. The most memorable report I read involved the criminal actually _catching_ the whip before it struck her and dragging the guard toward her with it where she proceeded to clothesline him. She was sent to the whipping post for flogging for that offense, and was denied breakfast the next day, so she never tried it again.

Sakura refused to cry or scream during punishments, but she was reported often crying herself to sleep. This was apparently not due to the pain of the whipping but due to the chakra seal brand we burnt onto her lower abdomen. As mentioned earlier, Sakura was the apprentice of the Hokage, one Tsunade Senju, who was widely considered the greatest medical ninja of the age. During this apprenticeship, she was taught secret and powerful techniques that no one else knew. Techniques that could allow her to lift boulders effortlessly and heal a man from the brink of death. Now it was all gone, and it was likely she would never be able to heal even a papercut ever again. According to more than one guard’s report, Sakura was witnessed attempting to heal her whipping welts, and cried bitterly when she couldn’t even get her hands to glow.

Initially, like all prisoners do, Sakura showed complete and utter revulsion with the thought of whoring herself out to the guards. She, like the other kunoichi, was a virgin, and had had no intention whatsoever of giving her virginity to men that we once so beneath her in status. However, after seven days of refusal, Sakura noticed that her health was beginning to wane without the extra food and nutrition the guards were offering. By the eighth day she was whipped for failing to meet her work quota. She was a trained medic, and knew that without the extra food she would die. Sakura was a practical woman; she submitted herself to the guard who offered her the largest portion of extra rations.

According to that guard’s report for that night, Sakura was an angry fuck. During her first time, she cursed our country for making her do this, and left quite a few nail marks on the guard’s back. The guard spanked her for hurting him, but also noted that she was an absolutely fantastic lay and well worth the price he paid.

Sakura became a regular whore for the guards after this, and was soon one of the most popular fucks in the camp. She became even more popular when her exotic pink hair started growing out again. This of course brought her into contention with the other inmates who were losing business, but Sakura’s taijutsu skills saw off any attempt to beat her.

One final note regarding Sakura and her sexual liaisons with the guards. Three guards were admitted to the prison doctor with crushed testicles. Apparently this was because these three refused to pay for her services and attempted to rape her. Normally I would have recommended these guards be punished for their breach in camp decorum, but they have already suffered enough. Sakura was still flogged to make sure she didn’t get any ideas.

As predicted, Sakura made an escape attempt within the second month of her interment. We did not, however, expect her to get so close to success.

Remiss in our earlier examination of Sakura was the tattoo (or what we thought was a tattoo) of a diamond on her forehead. This diamond tattoo was actually a _seal_ containing chakra that Sakura had stored up for several months before her imprisonment. While our chakra brand prevented her for using chakra, this did not apply to the chakra that she had already stored in the seal on her forehead. In the middle of the night she activated this secret reserve of chakra and used it to escape the camp and flee towards the border. Fortunately we were on guard for an escape attempt and tasked men to follow her and lie in wait in the direction she was traveling.

We were unsure why she waited so long to use this seal, but we soon discovered why. Sakura was found passed out less than one mile away from the border. What we later learned was that the Strength of a Hundred Seal gave the criminal greatly enhanced powers, in return for drained vitality later. Obviously Sakura was hoping she would hold out until she crossed the border, but that was not to be.

Sakura did not wake up again until she was back in the prison camp. I was told the look of defeat on her face was delicious. Such a near successful escape attempt was unheard of, and was harshly punished. After a hard flogging, Sakura was strapped into specially prepared stocks and was given as a low-rent cumdump to the guards for an entire night.

Fortunately, with her chakra sealed she would be unable to store chakra for the Strength of a Hundred seal again. So we would not have to worry about such a spectacular escape attempt again. It was decided to re-brand her chakra seal when it began to fade however, to be sure. We also decided not to tell her we were going to do this. It would be a nice surprise from her prison routine about fifteen years from now.

Unsurprisingly, Sakura became pregnant from the guards. Ministers have proposed sterilising female prisoners to prevent this from happening, but we are not barbarians. Sakura was allowed to carry the baby to term, and following camp policy she was suspended from work duties in the last three months of her pregnancy so she could have the baby without health risk. Sakura was uncharacteristically grateful for this, but that would change.

Sakura gave birth to a healthy daughter. She was allowed to name her, but was not allowed to keep her. We waited until after the labour was finished to explain that the baby would be sent to the nearest state orphanage. She begged us tearfully to let her keep the child, but we would have none of it. A work camp was no place for a baby after all. Also, we informed her about another camp policy we had not yet mentioned to her. As she was unable to work for the last three months, she was unable to work off those three months of her sentence. Therefore her sentence would be extended for another three months to make up the time.

The horrified screaming could be heard throughout the camp.

Year One – Ino Yamanka:

Ino Yamanaka, while initially rebellious as all new inmates are, proved to be a very interesting case indeed.

Ino, according to our reports, was a pampered daddy’s girl, and an heiress of a moderately wealthy ninja clan. She was used to ordering people about and being obeyed. The girl was smart enough not to try and order the camp guards around, initially, but she still chafed at her imprisonment. While she performed her work, it was done sullenly. In the first week or so, when she was whipped for lax work, she would talk back to the guards, which earned her more whippings until she smartened up.

She was a born complainer. She complained about everything from the food to the toilet facilities (admittedly not much more advanced than a hole in the ground). It took several hard whippings on the whipping post before she learnt to keep her mouth shut. Though occasionally she would forget her lesson and complain again. This was fine with the guards, as they enjoyed adding another welt to the kunoichi’s arse.

The chakra seal brand was a source of great pain for Ino. Her clan were apparently renowned for mental techniques, such as the ability to transfer their mind and soul into another body. By near-permanently sealing her chakra we have trapped her mind into only one body. It is unlikely she would ever again know what it is like to experience the feeling of living life in another body. It is our understanding that clan children start to learn these techniques as young as six. By sealing her chakra we have ruined ten years of hard effort of studying these techniques. Even when the seal is faded enough to use chakra, her abilities in her own clan techniques would be so atrophied as to be useless. Ino clearly understands this, and is almost as great a source of pain to her as the hard labour and whipping.

The intriguing part of Ino’s case was how quickly she submitted to whoring herself out to the guards. For the first four days of her incarceration, Ino was observed to show as much disgust as the other kunoichi at the thought of sleeping with the guards. However by the fifth day this attitude seemed to vanish overnight. Ino openly approached a guard when her shift finished and offered her body to him, for free. It is noticed that this guard was reported to be the most handsome, and also one of the higher ranked guards, in the camp. The guard of course jumped at the chance of free pussy and by all reports Ino was an incredibly enthusiastic lover. It was hard to believe that it was her first time.

After this event, other guards sought out Ino’s charms, but she always refused them and returned to the first guard she slept with. However, while the first fuck was free, Ino refused to allow it again, and began charging the guard more and more for her services. The guard, by this point utterly enthralled agreed to as much food as he could offer. Soon it was not just food but cosmetics such as lipstick and even a magazine to read. Whenever this guard began to waver over how much she demanded for her body, she would make overtures to other guards, which would cow him into meeting her payment. For the next few months, Ino had a high-ranking guard wrapped around her finger. She could not get out of her thirteen hour work shift, obviously, no guard had the power to do _that_. But she was able to get slightly lighter duties, and more comforts during off time.

The Warden of the camp was wise to what the inmate was doing, however, and arranged to put a stop to it. This was a work camp, not a holiday spa, and Ino had to be taught as such.

The Warden arranged for Ino’s lover among the guards to be informed of a chance for her to escape the camp. This guard, completely under her control, immediately told Ino of this and she took the bait.

The ‘chance’ was of course a trap. Ino was caught less than a mile away from the camp and brought back for punishment. She was flogged hard, not just for attempting to escape, but for believing that she could control her life here. The Warden explained this to Ino in great detail, so that it would not be misunderstood. She was not a queen. She was a prisoner, a worker, a slave. The only thing she could do here for the next thirty years of her life was to follow the camp routine.

As a further punishment, unlike other prisoners, Ino was for a month unable to pick and choose which guard she fucked for extra food. So long as the guard offered fair compensation, Ino would be forced to agree to fuck him no matter what she thought of him. Several of the ugliest guards, who Ino had earlier scorned, eagerly took the Warden up on this decree. It was an effective punishment, choosing which guard to whore themselves to was essentially the only free choice the prisoners had. Taking that away showed Ino that she truly had no control over her life here.

Ino was quiet for the rest of the year after this. Despite her punishments she still became the most desired woman in the camp, and she did not fear for lack of nutrition. Though the flogging welts caused her pain for many weeks afterward. The other inmates attempted to beat her for this once, but the kunoichi was able to handily fend them off.

Inevitably after the amount of fucking she had performed over the first few months of her incarceration, Ino became pregnant. Like the others she was forced to stop after her term reached its sixth month. She gave birth to a daughter, who was taken to the nearest orphanage, despite Ino’s protests. According to the warden, the look of terror on her face when she was told that the three months she had to take off for her pregnancy would be added to her sentence was priceless.

As a final note. The guard that Ino charmed was punished by being transferred to Male Work Camp #3, with strict instructions that he could not be transferred to another Female Work Camp. This was to ensure that such an issue did not rise again.

Year One – Temari Sabaku:

Temari Sabaku, compared to her fellow kunoichi, was the one who most quickly adapted and conformed to prison life.

Temari could be considered ninja royalty. She was the daughter and the sister of two separate Kazekages, and was a prominent kunoichi in her own right. She was a known leader and was apparently a general of an army during the Fourth Shinobi War. None of that mattered now. Far from leading men, she now obeyed the same unending routine as every other naked, sunburnt prisoner. However, what was interesting was that Temari understood this, and begrudgingly accepted that her previous status would do her no good in the Work Camp. She stolidly began her assigned work duties every day with little complaint. Of the four kunoichi that were interned she earned the least amount of whipping scars, she was a hard worker. It helped that Temari was from a desert land with temperatures that were almost as high as the Land of Quarries. There was less of a climate shock, and the constant sun exposure was less oppressive to her.

The guards still lashed her on occasion, though. It was not good to let a prisoner think we were lenient.

Though Temari refused to allow her new life as a prisoner affect her, all reports agree that the chakra seal brand was a great source of anguish. Temari would have spent her entire life since she learned how to walk studying the kunoichi arts. The skills she would have amassed in over a decade of hard training was what allowed her to rise so high among the standing of ninja everywhere. The vast majority of these skills relied on chakra, and that was all taken away, reducing her life’s efforts to nothing. Temari is intelligent and was aware that even when the seal becomes weak enough for her to use chakra again, her skills would be useless due to decades of neglect. Her life as a kunoichi was over, and the mental strain that put the inmate under was greater than any strike of the whip.

Temari forced herself to adapt to all aspects of her new prison life, but the one she struggled the most with was selling her body to the guards for extra food. Like the others, she was naturally disgusted with the idea. The thought of a Kage’s daughter rutting with peasant men must have been revolting to her. It was also compounded by the fact that that there was a shinobi she wanted to be involved with back home. Still, Temari was an imminently practical woman, she would not see this other shinobi for decades. Plus, she knew that she would need the extra nutrients only the guards could provide. On the sixth day she relented and whored herself out for the first time.

The report made by the lucky first guard states that Temari was initially a bit of a cold fish. However this guard was a little smarter than most in his position and pointed out that this activity would be the only form of pleasure she would experience during her internment. After that, Temari became very passionate indeed, and was by all recommendations a marvellous fuck.

All of the emotions Temari kept under control during work hours were unleashed during her sexual liaisons with the guards. This made her the one of the most passionate whores in the camp, and incredibly popular.

Temari also had the easiest time among her fellow inmates. Like the others she was resented for her popularity and several attempted to beat her or scar her face to regain business from the other guards. Temari in turn not only fended these inmates off but beat them so hard that it would be a very long time before anyone tried to challenge her again.

Despite so far being a model prisoner, the Warden of Women’s Work Camp #3 was suspicious of inmate Temari. He had been briefed to be careful around her in case of some ninja trick, and watched her closely. He became convinced that Temari’s relatively good behaviour compared to the other kunoichi was a trap to lull them into a false sense of security. He made sure there was at least two guards watching her at all times.

True to his suspicions, Temari was spotted attempting to sneak away from the camp late at night. She made it two miles before the guards caught up to her. She was immediately brought back and flogged at the whipping post. Also, to make sure the point was driven home she was forced to report to the whipping post once a week for a month for a routine flogging.

Given her popularity with the guards, it was not surprising that Temari became pregnant. Like the others she continued work until her sixth month and then spent the last three months of her pregnancy in the bunk house. She gave birth to a healthy boy who was immediately sent to the state orphanage. Unlike the others, Temari did not ask to keep the child, but still wept when he was taken away. The weeping became full blown sobbing when she was informed that her sentence would be extended by three months.

Year One – Hinata Hyūga: 

Hinata Hyūga was by far the slowest to adapt to her new life in Women’s Work Camp #4.

Hinata, according to our reports, was a highborn lady. She was the eldest daughter of the Hyūga clan head, and a therefore a prospective heiress to a prominent clan. Hinata was used to finer things in life despite her kunoichi training. Fine foods and teas made by master chefs, luxurious clothing from the most expensive silks, and household servants to assist her every need. She was used to all of these things, and now they were replaced with gruel, a hard leather collar, and backbreaking labour where every lax moment was rewarded with a whipping. Suffice to say it came as a terrible shock to the system for the spoiled brat.

The guards reported for the first month or so the prisoner frequently complained to the guards about the conditions here. In particular she complained about the blisters she received from swinging a pickaxe into hard stone for thirteen hours a day. This eventually bothered the guards so much that they strapped her onto a whipping post and flogged her hard. She did not complain again for quite some time, but she did spend the next few weeks after that crying herself to sleep.

As mentioned before, all of the kunoichi were heavily affected by their chakra seal brand, but no more so than Hinata. According to our later reports on the Hyūga clan, they have a special ability activated by chakra called the Byakugan that allowed them to see in all directions and through objects. It apparently came as naturally as breathing to them, and so having that ability stripped away had been particularly harrowing. Like being blinded or deafened. If we had known this at the time, we may have modified her brand to allow her a tiny trickle of chakra. Not for the inmate’s benefit, obviously, but such an ability to look deeper underground would have been useful for mining the quarry.

In the introductory report, on the subject of female inmates whoring themselves out to the guards, I mentioned that Hinata was the last to succumb to this practise. After some investigation, I have included the reason for this unusual resistance. Like the others, Hinata was disgusted at the thought of selling her body to the guards, but her disgust went deeper than the others. She was raised by an aristocratic family, who always stressed the value of her virginity for a potential male suitor, traditionally one of equal or superior social status to herself. So trading this virginity to lowborn peasant guards was something that went against years of childhood training. Also, the inmate reported had a man that she desperately wanted to marry and give her first time to, a ‘Naruto Uzumaki’. This obsession with this Naruto is the other main reason she resisted whoring herself for twice as long as the others.

However, after a few days of hard whipping for failing her quota due to lack of nutrition, Hinata understood she had no choice. According to the personal report of the guard who she exchanged her first time to, she wept through the entire experience. She initially called out for this Naruto until the guard slapped her until she started calling out his name instead. Later feeling guilty, the guard gave her double the rations he initially promised, which was already a large amount for this kind of transaction. After this, Hinata was a regular whore for the guards, and became incredibly popular due to her then ivory-pale skin, aristocratic beauty, curvaceous figure, and exotic eye-colouring.

Hinata also had the hardest time with other inmates. Like the other kunoichi she was able to subdue any of them that tried to beat her, but her taijutsu style was actually dependent on chakra to be truly effective. So while she was able to beat untrained inmates, she sometimes visibly struggled when faced with a group. This fact will be important in a later report.

Again, like the others. Hinata would attempt to escape her assigned camp. This occurred in the first six months of her sentence, a few days after she discovered that she had become pregnant from one of the guards. Her method of escape involved hiding amongst the carts of quarry stone that was assigned to be transported to the city for building repairs. The prisoner actually got just a few miles away from the nearest town this way, before a mandatory inspection discovered her. She was promptly returned the camp and flogged heavily for the attempted escape.

After recovering from her punishment, Hinata was put back to work until the sixth month of her pregnancy. She birthed a healthy boy at the end of her first year in the camp, who was promptly sent to the nearest state orphanage. Reports state that the entire camp could hear her wailing. Though whether it was because we took the child away or because she was informed that her sentence was extended by three months was anyone’s guess.

One final note regarding the child of Inmate Hinata. The child, like the others she would birth later in her incarceration all inherited their criminal mother’s Byakugan. My then suggestion that this boy, along with others she may birth, be trained as state shinobi had proven be a success. It is one of the many career advancing opportunities these kunoichi afforded me, and I am grateful in my own way.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates from up to their fifth year of incarceration.


	3. Year Five

This report follows our criminal kunoichi from their second to their fifth year of interment at their respective Work Camps. It also summarises how we dealt with the prisoner’s home nations, which I had neglected to mention before.

Year Five – Sakura Haruno:

Five years into her sentence and Inmate Sakura had proven herself to be a stubborn little tart.

At the beginning of her second year in the camp, Sakura was possibly at her most rebellious. The fact that her daughter was taken away and her sentence was extended seemed to wash away the memories of her prior punishments. She became a proper hellion, causing trouble for the guards in any way possible. She defaced the guardhouse, damaged their personal toilet pits, and even managed to cause one guard to break his leg in an ‘accident.’ There was not enough evidence to point Sakura out as the culprit, but the Warden knew it was her and had her flogged for each infraction.

Thankfully, there was little damage she could actually do with the time she had. Prisoners have very little free time. One had to work the whole thirteen hours, save for one short break for dinner, or they would miss their quota, resulting in a whipping. Then during off-work time, Sakura had to devote a least a few hours to servicing the guards for extra food before getting much needed sleep.

Also, the start of the New Year was always the busiest time of the year for prisoners, as Sakura would soon discover. At the beginning of the New Year, the prison barber was summoned to shave down the prisoner’s hair for hygiene purposes. Therefore the beginning of the year was when the prisoner’s hair was as long as it was ever going to get. The guards preferred their women with hair, and were therefore even more sexually active than usual.

Being one of the most popular girls, Sakura spent a lot of her night time on her back or on her knees as the guards took as much pleasure from her as possible before her exotic pink locks were sheared away. Not wanting to get pregnant and therefore increase her sentence, Sakura became very proficient at oral and anal sex, which slowed down her rate of pregnancy, but only by a little. She begged the guards not to fuck her in the pussy, but many guards refused to pay her unless she fucked them vaginally. She had no choice but to agree to their demands or die of malnutrition. It did not help that the guards refused to sell birth control pills or use condoms.

Before long Sakura was pregnant again. Shortly after she learned this, a guard was killed in an ‘accident’. It was the only unnatural death of a guard in our country’s history, and despite the lack of evidence, Sakura was heavily flogged for days afterward.

Sakura also attempted to rally other inmates to rebel against and overwhelm the guards with sheer numbers. However, Sakura was hated and mistrusted by the other inmates as they were envious of her status as the guards’ favourite whore, and was unable to rally anyone. She was, of course, punished when she was reported trying to ferment rebellion.

Over the next four years, Sakura would attempt to escape three times. But with her Strength of a Hundred Seal permanently drained she did not get anywhere near as far as her first escape attempt. A naked woman struggling to run through the rocky no-man’s land between the Camp and civilization was easy to catch. The first two escape attempts resulted in the standard flogging, but by the third attempt the Warden had lost all patience.

Sakura was told that another escape attempt after this would result in her being executed by hanging. She was also given the choice of punishment of either two-hundred lashes on the whipping post (a virtual death sentence), or fucking every single guard in the camp. Sensibly, she chose the latter.

I truly wish I had been personally present to experience the events the reports describe. Sakura was about to turn twenty-one, and was a lush young beauty with skin bronzed by constant sun exposure, firm muscles from hard labour, and slightly larger curves due to multiple pregnancies. She was also lactating as she had birthed her fourth child a little over seven weeks prior. Even with cropped hair she was an utter vision and the guards eagerly used her body. Sakura, for her part, energetically handled every guard’s request, powering through the fuck marathon with all of her inner rage. By the time the night was over, Sakura had satisfied every man in the camp, and also exhausted her own rage and hate in the process.

Being thoroughly physically, spiritually, and emotionally exhausted by this extended gangbang, Sakura’s rebellion was over. She was almost certainly pregnant for the fifth time, and she remained a quiet prisoner up to the five year mark of this report.

At the five year mark of this report, Sakura had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and two girls, excluding the girl from the Year One report. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by twelve months on top of her first extension mentioned in the Year One report. Sakura’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-six years and three months.

Year Five – Ino Yamanka:

Ino learned her lessons from her first year in the camp well, but still proved to be quite a handful at times.

After her punishment recorded in the previous report, Ino had become very meek toward the guards, often submissively serving them in any way they requested. She also continued her work without complaint, she no longer even complained when she was whipped for slowing down. All in all, a success of rehabilitation. Or so we thought. The wily kunoichi still had some fight left in her.

The old spirit began to return at the beginning of the second year, during shearing season. Ino had been enjoying a luxurious life for a prisoner, two quality meals a day with the occasional snack, thanks to her successful whoring at this busy period of the year. But this was not enough for Ino, she wanted to keep her hair. Compared the other kunoichi, or even compared to most of the other inmates in general, Ino was inordinately fond of her hair, and begged the guards to let her keep what she had grown. The guards were also fond of Ino’s locks, as blondes were very rare in our country, but refused to make an exception for her as rules were rules.

The day the barber came, Ino fought like a hellcat to avoid the shears. But for all her training she was no match for a burly man holding her down while the barber did his work. Ino spat and cursed and finally wept as her hair was shorn away. The barber was a kindly old man who told her she would have a whole year to grow it back again, but this only made her cry harder. One of the guards she had yet to try and charm grew tired of this childish vanity and slapped her silly until she stopped.

The guard’s actions were completely in protocol with his role in the camp, but it only served to ignite a fire under the prisoner. Ino resumed some of her previous antics. She began reasserting sexual dominance over the guards again, demanding they use only her ass or mouth from now on, addicting them until they paid any price she demanded. Soon Ino was not only eating fine foods but once again sporting contraband such as makeup and magazines. The one thing the guards utterly refused to provide were birth control pills, as they were too expensive for their wages.

The guard who struck her soon found himself beaten by several other guards. The fact that these guards then received blowjobs from Ino without any apparent payment was treated as completely coincidental. For quite some time afterward, reports about correctional lashings for Ino completely dried up. The wench had seduced a group of guards into becoming her protectors. This did not please the Warden at all.

The guards who Ino had seduced were all brought into the Warden’s office one-by-one.  Each of them were informed that if they continued to do the bidding of a _prisoner_ then they were in dereliction of duty. The consequences of such would be a transfer to the worst place the Warden could find. The guards feared the Warden more than they lusted after Ino, and her support base quickly dried up. The reports of correctional lashings resumed and Ino was once again forced to accept whatever the guards offered for her services, including her pussy. Ino’s behaviour reverted back to a model prisoner after that.

Ino was caught trying to escape shortly after the camp doctor confirmed that she was with child for the second time. The tart actually made it three miles before being rounded up by the guards. She was flogged of course.

By the end of her third year of internment, and her third pregnancy, Ino was caught attempting smuggle out a letter addressed to the Village of Konoha. The letter was filled with tedious complaints regarding the conditions of the camp. There was a lot of whining about her treatment and her justified punishments, and blubbering about how we kept increasing her sentence. A carbon copy of the letter was delivered to me, and I had a good laugh reading it. This treatment may seem barbaric to Ino when compared to her soft pampered life in Konoha, but this is prison! She is serving a just punishment for a heinous crime, and she must never be allowed to forget it. The Warden explained as such to Ino before burning the letter in front of her. He then went on to explain that her flogging would be delayed until after the baby was born. Oh, and that her sentence would be once again extended for the three months she couldn’t work while carrying the baby to term.

After this little incident, Ino returned to her regular status as a model prisoner up to the five year point of this report.

At the five year mark of this report, Ino had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to three boys and one girl, excluding the girl from the Year One report. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by twelve months on top of her first extension mentioned in the Year One report. Ino’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-six years and three months.

Year Five – Temari Sabaku: 

Temari had spent most of these five years as a model prisoner, but had also proven that she could still cause her Wardens quite a few headaches.

The desert kunoichi had very quickly resigned herself to her fate as a prisoner of Women’s Work Camp #3. Unlike the others, who constantly sought to regain what they had lost, Temari was intelligent enough to know that she wouldn’t get it back from us. She actively refused to think about her life as a kunoichi, knowing it would only bring her pain without succour. This was evidenced from our reports of how Temari would constantly change the subject whenever her past was brought up into conversation.

Temari threw herself into the prison routine. She worked hard in the day, and fucked hard at night. The passion she displayed during her whoring time, so different from her emotionless day-work, always ensured she remained popular. Ever the practical woman, Temari specialised more on anal and oral sex in an attempt to avoid pregnancy. But this only slowed down the process slightly as she rarely protested when a guard came inside her, so lost would she be in the moment.

She did not complain when it was her turn to have her head shaved (although some guards did) and she always took her correctional lashings without a flicker of emotion. Indeed, the camp Warden boasted in his reports that the kunoichi’s spirit was completely broken. This Warden would later be replaced.

Temari made a predictable escape attempt a few months after her second child was born. The wench was a slippery one, however, and managed to evade capture for three days and travelled over twenty miles before being caught. She was flogged as customary and then released back into the camp to resume her duties.

What was not realised at the time was that Temari knew full well that she would be unable to escape. The goal was actually to evade capture for as long as possible. In her first year, Temari had made the other inmates fear her by beating the strongest among them senseless. Now she made them respect her for how long she was able to avoid the guards. Being able to temporarily outfox the guards, who were essentially the masters of their lives, showed the other inmates that Temari was a force to be reckoned with.

The final stroke of her plan happened a night after Temari managed to haggle for triple the price of a gangbang with several guards. That night saw the wily kunoichi paid in more food than she could possibly eat alone. Temari then _shared_ this surplus of food with the other most respected inmates in the camp. She already had fear and respect, but with this gesture she was also able to obtain the love and loyalty of several women in the camp. It took her a few years, but Temari had made herself into a leader again. Sure, she was the leader of a dozen criminals instead of the hundreds of powerful shinobi she once commanded, but it was more than she should have had.

For failing to notice what she was doing, the Warden was dismissed from his post. The only consolation the old Warden could get from this was that Temari’s gangbang stunt made her pregnant again. The newly assigned Warden was a far more suspicious sort, and kept a far greater eye on the resident kunoichi inmate and her little prison gang than any other group.

Despite becoming a gang leader, Temari’s attitude in the prison remained the same. She worked hard in the day without complaint and fucked anyone willing to pay a fair price at night. In actuality, Temari’s gang became very beneficial to the guards. The kunoichi led group were often very willing to perform group acts for guards or lesbian shows for their viewing pleasure. The gang’s payment of food skyrocketed, and soon her little team was the best fed in the camp.

Near the end of the five year point of her prison stay, shortly before the birth of her fifth child, Temari became confident enough to give a letter to the Warden. It was a letter addressed to her brother the Kazekage, begging him to ransom her. Of course, this letter was never sent. The odds of the Warden deciding to send it was astronomically low, but I suppose to Temari a tiny chance was better than none. Since she handed it over through the proper channels the Warden made no formal complaint. Temari was still of course flogged for possessing contraband (paper), and she never again made the attempt.

At the five year mark of this report, Temari had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to four girls, excluding the boy from the Year One report. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by twelve months on top of her first extension mentioned in the Year One report. Temari’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-six years and three months.

Year Five – Hinata Hyūga: 

It took a few more years than normal, but Hinata had finally adapted to her new life here.

As mentioned previously, Hinata was a soft-spoken highborn lady who was raised in an aristocratic household. The work camp’s conditions were so far removed from her childhood upbringing that it caused our prisoner extreme culture shock. The whippings and orders from the guards were so completely alien from ingrained habits of having servants wait on her hand and foot. Reports state that Hinata was still known to occasionally squeak from surprise during punishments into the beginning of her second year. The expression on her face still sometimes showing complete disbelief at how far she had fallen.

Indeed, ‘disbelief’ could be considered the word of the day when discussing the first two years or so of Hinata’s internment. She went through her work shift as if she was in a daze, and served the guards as night almost as if they weren’t even there. Many times the inmate was reported to be muttering the phrase ‘Naruto will come’ over and over again like a mantra. It seemed that the wench was still trying to use the name of this boy she was obsessed with as a shield against her just punishment. It would be useful for her rehabilitation later.

While Hinata did not display the same amount of passion as the other three kunoichi, her body and beauty still made her incredibly popular among the guards. Nearly two years in the sun had ensured that Hinata was no longer the ivory skinned goddess some guards fondly remembered, but she was still somehow one of the palest prisoners in the camp. This, along with her exotic lavender eyes and curvaceous body made every guard in the camp lust after her. As mentioned earlier Hinata was out of sorts quite often at this point in time, but she was still smart enough to take advantage of the guard’s favour. She made out like a proverbial bandit whoring herself out to the guards, and had absolutely no problems with nutrition.

However, while Hinata’s popularity with the guards ensured she never went hungry, it also greatly increased her chances of becoming pregnant. Hinata had been too out of sorts to focus on anal and oral sex like the other kunoichi, and so soon became pregnant again not long into her second year of internment. Admittedly her old comrades’ attempts with anal and oral sex barely slowed the process down for them, so it was a moot point really.

As soon as she discovered that she was pregnant again, it seemed to wake Hinata up. Within days she made her second escape attempt, which was also her most successful. In fact it was so close to success that we had to re-examine some of our security protocols. She once again slipped in among the supply wagons heading out of the prison. This time rather than wait for the supply train to be checked, she left it when it was about a third of the way towards the nearest town. From there she led our security forces in a spirited cat-and-mouse game toward the border. She lasted four days and got within twelve miles of the border before she was caught.

The security forces were not happy to have been forced to spend four days out in the wilderness. According to their after-action statement, when they finally cornered her they strapped Hinata to a nearby rock and flogged her then and there. It took the security team two whole days to bring her back, as they would routinely stop and lash her again to ease their frustration. When they did finally return, the Warden magnanimously spared Hinata from a ‘welcome back flogging’, and instead ordered Hinata to service the security team for half her regular price. She was far too terrified to refuse, and several guards reported that she fucked them with surprising enthusiasm. Fear can be a fantastic motivator.

After her second child, a daughter, was born, Hinata became listless once again. She had somehow hoped that she would be allowed to keep a daughter, and seeing her taken away took the spirit from her. The fact her sentence was once again extended by another three months was a double blow. For many months after this, Hinata waged a war of passive resistance. She worked until her work quota for that day was complete, but _only_ to that amount. She would cause the guards minor annoyances, such as hiding items from the guard room around the camp, or be unpleasantly rough with them during her nightly whoring. She even defaced the Warden’s building, although it was never proven that it was her.

Her punishments for these infractions were minor, as the crimes themselves were petty and there was little to no evidence. Although the incident with the Warden’s building did earn her a proper flogging, proof or no proof. Still, this was not behaviour that could be tolerated and the Warden knew something more drastic had to be done to rehabilitate the tricky wench.

Fortunately, an opportunity presented itself in the form of her beloved Naruto.

I have been remiss from detailing our interactions with the home nations of our four Kunoichi prisoners until this point. It was something a junior minister of mine pointed out to me while I was compiling this report, and I must apologise for the oversight.

It does seem like quite a glaring omission, doesn’t it? You would think that these powerful ninja villages would be demanding the return of their kunoichi, threatening terrible war against us if we didn’t meekly agree to their demands. You would think I would be reporting about how our security forces have bravely fended off rabid Konoha and Suna rescue teams looking to free their helpless comrades and friends. But I haven’t mentioned anything of the sort in this report so far. That’s because they didn’t know. We never told them.

While we are proud of our penal system (with a 100% rehabilitation rate) we are also not stupid. We knew full well that announcing to the world that we had these important women locked up would bring pressure we did not want on our heads. However, the ninja villages knew full well that their mission in our country was illegal, and never publically brought it up in political and trade meetings with their respective countries. There _was_ a shinobi team that discreetly visited our country to discover what had happened to their comrades. But all they found after an exhaustive search was the unmarked mass grave of the dead shinobi who had accompanied the criminal kunoichi. The remains were badly decomposed beyond proper identification, and so without further clues the investigative team marked the entire team as deceased.

Anyway I digress. Three years into Hinata’s internment, a diplomatic mission from the Land of Fire made a state visit to our capital city to sign a new trade deal. Among the entourage was the boy Hinata had been mooning over, one Naruto Uzumaki. The boy, now a man, had done well for himself in the last three years. He was a respected war hero, a Jōnin, and the top candidate to become Hokage when the current one retired. He even had a tragic backstory, which of course included how the girl he had just fallen in love with mysteriously died on a mission after the war. It was alright though, he had moved on from his grief and was engaged to someone else now.

He was treated like royalty when he visited. It was a source of great amusement to us that the woman he was reported to have loved was a prisoner in a work camp approximately a hundred miles away from where he sat. While Naruto dined on the finest meals our chefs could prepare, Hinata would have been eating her 1.00pm gruel. While he was being toasted by our Chief Minister, she would have been performing backbreaking labour while being burnt by the sun. When he was sleeping in one of the finest rooms in our finest hotel, Hinata would have just finished fucking her first guard of the night on her regulation sleeping pallet.

Before Naruto left with the rest of the diplomatic team, our Chief Minister requested a photo alongside the great war hero. The man was a cheerful sort, and happily agreed. I happen to actually be in that photo, standing to the far side. I had my copy framed and it still hangs in my office to this day.

The very next day after Naruto left our country, Hinata was called into the Warden’s office. In her three years here, it was the first time she had actually stepped foot into the office itself. The office was a very basic one, containing only a few amenities, but it was still the most extravagant building in the camp. Hinata was reported to be wide-eyed at the ‘luxury’ of the room, she had started to forget what actual luxury was by this point.

Hinata was shown a copy of the photo that Naruto had taken with our ministers. The Warden explained that her old boyfriend had visited our country to negotiate her possible release, but had decided that good relations between our nations was preferable to having her freed. Naruto had mentioned he was going to marry someone else anyway, so why would he want a filthy criminal like her?

The reaction Hinata had to this news was… extreme. She broke down crying on the spot, wailing and pleading to see Naruto, so she could beg for his help in person. When she was informed that he had already left the country without wanting to see her, she overpowered the guards with savage force and made a mad dash to the camp exit.

Hinata’s third and final escape attempt didn’t even last an hour. The guards easily corralled her and brought her back to the Warden. She had to actually be restrained and gagged as she repeatedly tried to harm herself and others. She spent the next day and night sobbing and wailing through her gag until a guard knocked her unconscious to shut her up. The Warden forgave Hinata for the damage to his office (perhaps a sliver of guilt for the pack of lies he had just told her), but still had her flogged for her escape attempt.

It took a very long time for Hinata to recover from the Warden’s world shattering announcement, but when she did she became an exemplary prisoner. She furiously attacked her work duties, exceeding her quotas whenever possible, and started fucking every well-paying guard with the intensity to power a city. No act was too dirty for Hinata to perform, and the guards almost worshiped her for it.

When asked what caused such a dramatic change. Hinata was reported saying “I’ve been thrown away. This is the only life I have left now, so I might as well do the very best I can.”

Hinata was still doing her ‘very best’ up until the five year mark of this report.

At the five year mark of this report, Hinata had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and two girls, excluding the boy from the Year One report. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by twelve months on top of her first extension mentioned in the Year One report. Hinata’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-six years and three months.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates at their tenth year of incarceration.


	4. Year Ten

At the ten year point of this report things start to get a little less interesting. By this point the only one of our kunoichi who displayed any form of resistance was Inmate Sakura. However the ten year point is also when I personally visit their camps once again. As the prisoners are mostly following rote routine by this point, this report will mostly highlight my personal visits at this ten year period.

Year Ten - Sakura Haruno:

After ten years, the reports on Sakura had become a bit dull. I honestly enjoyed the antics my reports told me these kunoichi went up to in their first decade here, so having them dry up was boring. I resolved to perform a personal inspection.

As previously mentioned, the work camps were incredibly far away from our population centres. It was a journey that took a whole day to complete with a twelve horse carriage team and so I had been reluctant to make a personal visit before now. I made a marathon trip to all four work camps when the kunoichi were first interred, and the journey was so tiring that I put off going again, until now.

When I arrived at Women’s Work Camp #1, I was given a brief tour of the camp. In the ten years since I last visited, the only change was that the Warden’s office had been redecorated. This was good. We have a strict policy of never changing anything in the camp unless for necessity. The soul-crushing monotony of an unchanging camp and seemingly unending routine was all a part of the rehabilitation process. If there was a change in routine, it was almost always for shaving the prisoners, re-branding them when their prison IDs faded, or corporal punishments for infractions. And of course pregnancies, which resulted in the decades’ long routine being extended for another three months. In the work camp, routine was everything. Anything that broke that routine only caused more pain, which discouraged anyone from trying to break free of the system. It was very effective.

But I digress. After the tour I was taken to the section of the stone quarry that Sakura was assigned to for that month. I was challenged by the duty guards to see if I could spot her out among the prisoners while they were working from behind. With their close cropped heads (covered in stone dust to obscure hair colour), tanned skin, and whip marked bodies it was difficult to tell the prisoners apart. I only finally identified Sakura by the fading prisoner ID that had been branded into her large arse.

Physically she has greatly changed from the pale, defiant girl in her late teens that was sentenced here. Sakura was now twenty-seven, and the full flower of womanhood was upon her. Close to a dozen pregnancies had left her with larger breasts and wider hips. A decade of constant hard labour had left her with powerful arms, sturdy legs, and a larger backside. Her slim gymnast’s body was slowly giving way the bulkier body of a common labourer. Indeed with her close cropped hair and her skin that had been heavily bronzed by the sun, she looked more like a peasant woman than a powerful kunoichi who once traipsed the corridors of power. Perhaps the biggest change was in her eyes. Those angry vibrant green pools had become pale and dull. Those weren’t the eyes of a fighter, they were the eyes of a dumb beast.

I watched as she easily hauled away two massive buckets filled with quarry stones, before dumping them to fill a heavy-duty mining wagon. She then proceeded to push that wagon back to the staging area, a task that normally required two inmates. The guards told me in confidence that Sakura was one of their very strongest workers, and that they usually only ever lashed her for fun now. As I predicted ten years ago, we were getting the work of a carthorse out of her.

The guards _also_ told me that a decade of constant nightly practice had made her better than any brothel whore. I resolved to try her myself. When her shift ended and the sun began to go down, I approached the criminal. When she saw me, her dull eyes seemed to regain a little bit of their lost spark, she even _growled_. She appeared to remember me from her processing all those years ago. She knew full well why I had approached her, and looked ready to refuse… until I pulled out a big bar of chocolate from my pocket.

The look of wonder on her face when I waved the chocolate under her nose was something I will always remember. The guards were poorly paid, and would have been unlikely to have ever been willing to offer something as luxurious and expensive as chocolate to a mere prisoner. No matter how good at fucking she was. It was the first bar of chocolate she had seen for over a decade and I delighted at watching her eyes follow it as I waved it from side to side. I told her it could all be hers… if she impressed me.

Whatever vestige of pride Sakura had left crumbled. Without another word she sunk to her knees and fished my cock out of my trousers. She quickly stroked me skilfully to hardness and placed my cock in her mouth. Her hands were rough and calloused from hard labour, but her lips and tongue were warm and smooth as her head bobbed up and down my member. Her mouth was divine and her tongue did things I didn’t even know were possible. I suppose it shouldn’t have been surprising, she’s had ten years of practice after all. It was not long before my seed spilled into her skilled mouth.

She knelt there, swallowed my cum, and looked at me expectantly. I kindly explained that this was a _very big_ bar of chocolate. She got the message immediately. She licked my cock back to hardness, then lay back on her sleeping pallet and beckoned me to join her. Her pussy was just as well trained as her mouth. Though it wasn’t the tightest I’ve ever had (to be expected after ten years of constant use) she made up for it with excellent control. Her vagina clamped down on my member like a vice. All the while as I grunted above her she cooed about how amazing I was, how grateful that criminal scum like her would be graced her with my cock. Intellectually I knew it was all an act, but it was still a massive turn on. Evidently this kind of talk was popular with the guards, and I could understand why.

Her pussy masterfully milked me of my seed. As a final ‘kindness’ I pulled out at the last moment to spray her face with my essence instead. Far from being disgusted, Sakura was pathetically grateful. One less load in her quim was one less chance of becoming pregnant. Not that it mattered with the amount of men she served. She ate the cum off of her face and licked my cock clean of any mess she left behind. That wasn’t just good service, it was practical. Sperm was a source of protein and any meal was welcome in prison. As a reward I gave her _two_ bars of chocolate. She wolfed one down right then and there at a speed that made me fear she was going to choke. The forgotten taste of chocolate brought tears to her eyes.

I dreamt of that fuck for days afterward. She was truly as skilled as all of the reports claimed, better even. The knowledge of how important Sakura used to be, and what heights she could have reached helped with the titillation factor. I bet when she first arrogantly entered our country to steal from us, she never imagined she would end up whoring herself out for chocolate bars!

After my visit, Sakura’s routine continued as normal for the rest of the year.

At the ten year mark of this report, Sakura had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Sakura’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-two years and six months.

Year Ten – Ino Yamanka:

Ten years into her sentence, and Ino’s rehabilitation was proceeding according to schedule.

After my personal inspection of Sakura, I wondered how the other three kunoichi compared. Each of them had incredibly glowing reports when it came to their sexual prowess, and so I decided to extend my personal visits to the other three work camps. Going by numerical order, I next travelled to Women’s Work Camp #2, where Ino was incarcerated.

Once again I was given a brief tour of the camp, where I commended the Warden on keeping things exactly the same. Another thing I have yet to mention are how similar the work camps are to one another. Save for some composition differences of their respective stone quarries, and the personal tastes of the Warden’s office, they were built to have the exact same layout. To test the effectiveness of this, we once drugged a prisoner and had her wake up in a completely different work camp. It took the prisoner over a day to realise it was a different camp, and that was only because the Warden looked different. We had her swapped back for record keeping purposes, but that prisoner doubted her sanity for the rest of her sentence.

I mark this down so I could explain my feeling of déjà vu when I was escorted to Ino’s section of the stone quarry for that month. It was the same multitude of naked, sweating, whip-marked bodies hacking away at the stone quarry. The same mining procedures. Even the same type of burly, mean-looking guards. Speaking of the guards, they even challenged me to the same game to try and spot Ino out of the group. They hadn’t realised that I had already played this game though, and I was able to point her out in less than half-an-hour, much to the guards’ shock. It was quite simple, I told them; look at their asses. They assured me they did.

It was not just practice that allowed me to pick out Ino from the crowd however. Now also in her mid-twenties, Ino was stunning to look at. Her whip-marked skin had been heavily bronzed by the sun. Many pregnancies had swelled her breasts and widened her hips. Constant heavy labour and good nutrition from successful whoring had given her powerful, muscled arms and legs, and a larger backside. Like Sakura the graceful gymnast’s body was becoming bulkier, like a common peasant worker, but just also like Sakura it only made her more beautiful. The guards once again confessed that she was one of the strongest workers in camp #2. Another fine workhorse for us.

There was one thing that was a bit different from her old rival, however. When Ino moved buckets of heavy stone there was a sway her in hips, a sensuality in her steps. Where Sakura stepped like a recently tamed beast, Ino moved with the grace of a whore looking for her next customer. Her dulled, defeated, blue eyes swept passed the guards and locked onto mine. There was no spark of recognition there, ten years had scoured her memories of me. Instead she recognized me in another capacity: that of a well-paying john.

When her work shift was over, I approached Ino, just as she had predicted. While she did not remember me, I was still on my guard. Ino has been reported to be so good that she had bewitched guards into doing her bidding. She has not been reported to have done that for some time now, thanks to her many punishments for doing so, but that may only mean that she had become stealthier.

Her dull eyes had regained some of their old life as I approached her. There was a turn in her hip and a coy, haughty, smile on her lips. If her hair had not been recently shorn, she would have likely artily covered one eye with it to give her a more alluring look. Ten years had ground down the fierce kunoichi, what stood in front of me was a temptress who was a master of her craft. I resolved to wipe the arrogance from her face.

She was about to state her price (almost certainly high), when I pulled out a cup of pudding I had prepared just for today. My reports had stated that she had asked the guards many times to retrieve this for her, but few were able to afford a luxury like this so far away from the capital. It was likely one of her favourite foods from when she used to be someone important. Her eyes followed it hungrily, desperately. It was a taste from her old life, a life she couldn’t get to try and live again for decades yet.

I told her that I had visited her old comrade Sakura, and how her bedroom-skills had impressed me enough that I thought I would give her once-rival a try. The flux of emotions that flitted across Ino’s face when I mentioned her absent friend were a delight to watch. Recognition as ten-year old memories struggled to the fore, then hope at the mention of her friend. And ultimately, defeat and depression when she realised that the strong, powerful Sakura she remembered had broken down into just another imprisoned whore like her.

Something seemed to shift in Ino then. Whatever little remained of the kunoichi I remembered hid itself deep away. She knelt, and while staring into my eyes the whole time, unzipped my trousers and proceeded to massage my cock to hardness, then took me in her mouth. Her tongue coiled around my length like it had a life of its own. Her head bobbed up and down at a furious pace, deep throating me while her tongue constantly swirled around my cock. For a second time I had found heaven in the form of a criminal’s lewd mouth. Ino could have made me cum in moments, but she made it last until I had to hold back a gasp when she finally claimed my seed.

Ino opened her mouth and made a great show of swirling my cum around with her tongue before swallowing it in a great production. Without another word, she rose to her feet and guided me to her sleeping pallet. She lay me on my back and mounted me with her legs on either side. My cock was still drenched in her saliva, so there was next to no resistance when she impaled her asshole on my dick.

A decade of anal sex had remade Ino’s ass into a potent sexual tool. It squeezed and caressed my dick as she pumped herself up and down, gyrating her hips as she did so. I wrapped my hands around her waist and I pumped upwards as best I could, and relished her face as her eyes rolled upwards in ecstasy. For a few unguarded seconds, the experienced temptress’s true identity was revealed, as a whore desperate for pleasure in a cruel place. I took merciless advantage and allowed her to ride me to our mutual completion several times over the night.

By the time it was done, she was curled around my body, kissing my chest, murmuring words of worship. I was aware that it was all an act, but I could easily understand how the guards would fall for it if they experienced _that_ for all the nights they worked in the camp. No, while passionate, Ino was ultimately insincere when she later claimed I was the ‘best she ever had’. She was far more honest when she ate the pudding in front of me while curled in my lap, tears spilling from her eyes when she confessed it didn’t taste like she remembered it. The dessert was just as sweet as ever… but it would never be the same to her now.

After my visit, a more subdued Ino carried out the rest of her tenth year of sentencing like normal.

At the ten year mark of this report, Ino had also become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to a boy and four girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Ino’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-two years and six months.

Year Ten – Temari Sabaku:

Temari has impressed us time and time again, and into her tenth year that has not changed.

This was the third stop on my great round trip around the four camps our delectable kunoichi were interred in. I was once again momentarily confused whether I had taken a wrong turn and ended up at a previous camp. I was given a tour, and I commended the Warden on keeping things identical to how things were when I visited a decade ago. What was quite different this time around was that the guards did not try to challenge me to spot Temari. She was rather easy to find.

Just like the others, ten years of hard labour under the hot sun had changed Temari. Now twenty-eight, the desert flower had blossomed under adversity. Her whip marked skin had tanned deeply under the sun’s rays. Her lithe body had bulked up from a combination of constant backbreaking work and good nutrition from being the guards’ favourite whore. The Kage’s daughter was being converted into a common peasant labourer, but was no less beautiful for the change. Her breasts, ass, and hips had all swelled from her many pregnancies, making the formerly lovely beauty a true vision of sexuality.

But that was not much different from Sakura and Ino. It was true, even with her beauty, Temari did not stand out too much compared to the other naked prisoners surrounding her. No, what made her different from those around her were how the other inmates treated her. Sakura was avoided out of fear for her strength, others looked away from Ino out of envy for her ability to enrapture the guards. As for Temari, the other inmates looked at her with respect, maybe even something akin to reverence.

Ever since she formed her own gang among the prisoners years ago, Temari always had a small tight-knit group of followers nearby. This was the case now, where a group of inmates who obviously belonged to her gang were working in unison alongside her, hacking at the stone quarry in a synchronised fashion. Temari was smart enough to keep her gang small, as the Warden would have cracked down hard if she tried to expand her influence. But all the inmates in the camp knew that Temari was the top bitch. The first among slaves.

This was not always an envious position, as the guards made sure that this ‘top bitch’ was punished hard for even perceived infractions to ensure that all the prisoners knew their place. That even the best of them was nothing more than another wench broken to the whip. I asked the Warden in private why he allowed Temari to keep this gang of hers when he could have easily arranged something to break it apart. He explained that productivity was higher than ever before, so let it slide so long as things remained as they were. True to his words, Temari’s little group worked like machines. Temari had not only been tamed into a fine workhorse for our nation, she had helped train other beasts of burden for us!

There was also another reason why Temari had been allowed to keep her little posse. Temari’s gang were renowned for their group acts at night. I of course decided to partake in the kunoichi criminal’s offerings.

As the inmates work-shift finished, and the sun started to fall into the horizon, I approached Temari. Her sea-green eyes had lost much of their inner fire, but there was still a small spark of intelligence hidden there. She clearly remembered me from her processing, as her initial reception was frosty to say the least. Her gang made up a whole corner of the prisoner bunkhouse, all sitting on their sleeping pallets, and all of them followed their leader’s example. Their dead-eyed stares were most unwelcoming. Some would be intimidated if such a strong looking group of women gave them such a hostile reception, but I felt nothing of the sort. They were all criminal scum, the lowest of the low, and every one of them knew that if they even attempted to harm me, then the punishments would be unending.

One by one, each of Temari’s little gang faltered. Their hostile glares started to lower, unable to meet my eyes. Soon they were all staring at the ground sullenly. Even Temari, the once mighty kunoichi, the sister and daughter of Kages, the lieutenant-general of an army of shinobi in the greatest war of our age, lowered her eyes in defeat. My status as a free man, let alone my position as a minister, automatically raised my station so far above theirs that they could not hope to resist me. Softly, Temari asked what my pleasure would be.

I revealed a large bag of candy, more than enough for everyone in her gang to have some. I will never get tired of the awe these criminal scum give me when I parade something so luxurious in front of them. Even Temari was licking her lips. I told her this could all be theirs, if they showed me the _real_ reason they became a group.

The days of Temari leading forces into battle were forever behind her, but she hadn’t let those leadership skills go completely to waste. With a single barked order, the two youngest and loveliest members of her gang, besides herself, glided over and draped themselves over me. They divested me of my clothing while one made out with me and the other stroked me to hardness in preparation for their leader. Sure enough, Temari knelt in front of me and took my prepared dick in her mouth. It was always interesting learning how our kunoichi developed differently in their ability to give head. They were all amazing, but their technique remained unique from each other.

Temari lavished attention to the head of my cock, bathing it lovingly with kisses and her lips and tongue. I was going to reprimand her leaving the rest of me out of her mouth, when one her followers who undressed me knelt down and started paying attention to my shaft. Then another prisoner started working my balls in her mouth. After several heavenly minutes, the triple action proved to be too much for my endurance and I released my seed directly into Temari’s waiting mouth. Far from swallowing it, however, the former kunoichi immediately began making out with her two followers for my viewing pleasure. They made a great production of swapping my cum between themselves, and the show quickly brought me back to full hardness.

Another prisoner yet to join in immediately began licking my mast, while Temari leaned back on her sleeping pallet as another prisoner ate her out for my viewing pleasure. Through shuddering breaths, Temari stated it was all in the service of ‘making my pussy as wet as possible for your glorious cock’. Even knowing she was saying it for show, it was incredibly stimulating hearing a woman who used to be so privileged use such dirty talk. It wasn’t long after that that I was guided into her warm, wet entrance.

As soon as my cock plunged into her sopping cunny, all intelligence vanished from Temari’s eyes as she let out a wail of pleasure. The iron-willed criminal became a moaning beast, locking her legs around my waist and clawing my back with her work-calloused hands. She bucked her hips wildly, her pussy feeling like it was giving me a blowjob all over again. It reminded me of riding a horse in my youth, asserting my dominance over a spirited mare new to the saddle. This was the only thing in her life that could give her any form of pleasure, and she was doing everything she could to make sure I got my ‘money’s’ worth.

I lost count the amount of times we reached our mutual climax. The wild animal beneath me shuddered and whimpered with pleasure. Surrounding us, several of her entourage had masturbated to the sight of their leader humiliating herself for a good dicking. Some of the homelier ones had already paired off with a few of the guards for the night. As our session together finished, the fuck-added haze faded from Temari’s mind. The flush of shame as she realised what she had once again become during sex almost made me want to go for another round right there.

I was more than satisfied. Temari and her gang had definitely earned their ‘payment’. I upended the bag of candy, letting its sweet contents spill all over the floor. The mob of women fell to their hands and knees immediately, hurriedly picking up the coveted treats from the dirty ground. Temari gave me one last look of tortured humiliation, before getting on all fours herself. The Kage’s daughter scrabbled in the ground for sweeties, stuffing them into her mouth with relish. The now unfamiliar taste of processed sugar granting a dopey smile on the normally reserved woman’s face.

The rest of Temari’s tenth year of imprisonment carried on as normal, with an interesting addendum. A few weeks after my time with Temari, the prison doctor announced she was pregnant. Curious, I had the boy she bore later that year tested after he was born and it was confirmed that he was mine. I discreetly brought him to my estate to be raised by my household.

At the ten year mark of this report, Temari had become pregnant on average once per year, again, giving birth to three boys (one of them mine) and two girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Temari’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-two years and six months.

Year Ten – Hinata Hyūga:

By her tenth year it was possible to say that Hinata had been completely reborn under our care.

This was the last stop on my round-trip of the four work camps our kunoichi were sentenced to. Once again, save for a few personal touches on the Warden’s office, it was exactly the same to look at, compared to the other camps and from ten years ago. Others would find it boring, but I was thrilled, and I informed the Warden so. The soul-crushing monotony of the camps was one of the many reasons we have a 100% rehabilitation rate. It always pleased me to see our prison system so effectively in action. Besides, what awaited me that night, as I would discover, would ensure I could never possibly be bored during my stay here.

The guards took me out to the quarry for inspection, and I added another note of commendation for the Warden. The mining operations done by the prisoners were very efficient indeed. Even though it was my fourth time seeing it, the sight of a virtual army of naked female prisoners paying off their debt to society one day at a time was still stimulating.

When I explained I wanted to review Inmate Hinata, the guards challenged me to a variation of the now familiar game of ‘spot the prisoner’. Instead of seeing how long it would take me to do it, they started betting on how _quickly_ I would spot the wench. I thought it strange at first, until I actually started viewing the prisoners. In a sea of naked flesh, Hinata immediately stood out. After ten years, Hinata’s naturally pale Hyūga complexion had finally been conquered by the sun. Though I am told she had quite a few nasty sunburns before she finally started tanning properly. Now that she was just as bronzed as every other prisoner this _should_ have made her indistinguishable from any other criminal scum that was working up a sweat in the quarry. However, while multiple pregnancies had caused the other kunoichi’s curves to expand, it was nothing compared to Hinata.

A combination of ten years of constant hard labour, decent nutrition, and many pregnancies had sculpted Hinata’s body. The former kunoichi was fit and strong, with already incredible curves when she was initially interred. But now her arms had gained bulk, and her legs were like tree trunks, and her whip marked backside had also greatly expanded. Her hips and tits had also swelled in size, surpassing her old comrades in the bust department. Her curves were far from being obscene, but they granted her a Madonna like figure. Yes, I could tell her apart in less than a minute (which displeased several guards who betted against me).

I continued to observe her, and was fascinated from what I saw. Her fantastic body was one thing, but I also noted that very occasionally a bead of milk would drip from one of her large udders. The guards explained that sometime after her seventh pregnancy, her tits occasionally just kept lactating, and never stopped even though she wasn’t weaning any of her children with mother’s milk. It was certainly a hit with the guards, who enjoyed suckling from her teats.

Throughout my observation, Hinata never even glanced in my direction. Many other inmates had stopped to gawk, before being whipped back into working, as I was something different in the camp, but not Hinata. She kept hammering away at the quarry with a look of fanaticism in her blank lavender eyes. In my previous report, I mentioned how Hinata had declared that she would do her very best in her new life here. It was a vow she had stuck to. Already she had filled a couple of large buckets with heavy stones and was carrying them with the help of a yoke around her shoulders back to the mining carts. Through sheer self-destructive willpower, the highborn lady had broken herself down into a marvellous workhorse for our nation. She was far cheaper to maintain than a workhorse would be too, a win-win.

As she passed me toward the carts, her eyes briefly locked with mine. There was not an iota of recognition there. At this point it was hard to figure out just how much of her life before the work camp that Hinata even remembered. She had done a good job of repressing those memories after our ‘revelations’ about her beloved Naruto. I watched as a bead of milk dripped from her teats to mingle with the sweat streaming off her whip-marked body. I wanted to know what that milk tasted like, and knew I would get to find out in just a few hours.

That night I arranged to have a night alone with Hinata. I had to actually pull rank as the senior Ministry official in the camp to get the guards to make way for me, such was her popularity. Up close, the change in the criminal was even more pronounced. When I first saw her ten years ago, even during the worst moments of her processing, Hinata had managed to keep the bearing of a highborn noble lady. She was prim, proper, and demure, with a grace that only one raised from young by noble elocution teachers could have. Now she brazenly stood before me, her head bowed and her body fully bared. The criminal Hyūga stood with her back straight, thrusting out her massive mammaries for my viewing pleasure. What little remained of her noble gracefulness was now used to shake her hips from side to side hypnotically, entrancing me with the sight of her labia; flushed pink and already wet with arousal. She had learned what worked well with clients. The noble lady turned criminal whore.

Such a wonderful presentation deserved a treat. I cupped her chin and tilted her head upwards to face me properly. Those pale lavender eyes, devoid of the arrogance that once filled them, were almost as arousing as her gorgeous body. I revealed my ‘payment’ to the criminal, a pair of cinnamon rolls, and pressed them close to her face. Hinata, after her presumed death, was given a wonderful obituary in the national newspapers of the Land of Fire. For some reason, it even listed her favourite food, cinnamon rolls. I thought it fitting that this wench who sought to forget the past get a reminder of it.

She stood transfixed at my offering, and took a deep long breath of the faint scent of cinnamon wafting from the treat. It was window into a previous life, long lost to her. For a brief moment a tortured rage worked across Hinata’s face as she once again came to terms with how far she had fallen, but just as quickly as it appeared it was gone. The window to her memory was forcibly shuttered closed, and her expression became one of a flirty whore eager for our session to begin.

Without another word she fell to her knees and worked my trousers off so quickly I later checked them for damage. After viewing her erotic body there was no need to get me hard, so she jumped straight in, wrapping her large tanned tits around my cock. The feeling of these warm soft globes smothering my shaft while the former highborn lady slobbered over my cockhead was incredible. Hinata massaged her breasts around my cock, giving me a marvellous tittyfuck while she licked and sucked the tip of my dick with the intensity of a zealot at prayer. Milk spurted from her teats, lubricating my cock even further with warm sweet mother’s milk. The feeling grew too much for me and I unleashed my seed all over her face.

Hinata’s face was an absolute mess, covered in cum and a few steams of her own breastmilk. She quickly wiped her face clean and made a good show of gobbling up my seed right in front of me. Licking her fingers as if she had just eaten a rare delicacy. By the time she was done I was more than ready enough to go another round.

Seeing that I was once again at full mast, Hinata wasted no time. She guided me onto her sleeping pallet, undressing me fully as she did so. With a crazed look of lust unworthy of her high birth she impaled herself on my cock. The reports mentioned that the criminal wench could fuck someone with the intensity to power a city but I had always believed that to be creative fancy, until now. Hinata was shaking her hips so hard that I almost thought she was trying to break them. Each thrust of her hips sunk herself fully onto my cock and then rising straight up again so only the tip was still inside her dripping wet pussy lips. I tried to thrust upwards but whenever I did so Hinata would shake her head furiously. She explained that it was _her_ place to give me pleasure, not the other way around. In fact Hinata’s pleasure seemed to stem directly from mine. Whenever I came she was never far behind, even if it didn’t seem she was ready to climax herself before I did.

During the act her tits began lactating again. Without missing a beat she leaned forward, her hips still thrusting down on my cock, so that I could have a taste. My lips clamped down on her teat, causing the slut to moan as if she was filming a sequel to the Icha Icha movie. Her milk was just as sweet as the guards promised, and I suckled greedily until the wench had nothing more to give. Not being satisfied with just that, I would later take the highborn cow in her ass as well, and the tightness of the criminal Hyūga’s asshole was divine.

For the fourth time I had found heaven in the form of a filthy criminal’s wet hole.

The criminal had more than earned her payment, and I watched indulgently as she stuffed her face with the sweet cinnamon buns. I gave her a few more than I promised as a reward for her fantastic performance. No dainty manners or noble etiquette was present. I doubted Hinata even remembered how to properly hold a knife and fork. All I saw was a beast cramming a faint reminder of her old life down her throat.

After this, Hinata resumed her regular routine for the rest of her tenth year here.

At the ten year mark of this report, Hinata had once again become pregnant on average once per year. She gave birth to two boys and four girls (a pair being twins). Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Hinata’s total sentence after time served: Twenty-two years and six months.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates up to their fifteenth year of incarceration.


	5. Year Fifteen

At fifteen years, we have reached the original half-way point of the criminal kunoichi’s initial thirty year sentence, before extensions. By this point our delectable ladies had spent almost half their lifespan in our prison camps.

Year Fifteen – Sakura Haruno:

Even the fiercest filly can be broken to the saddle.

Sakura’s spitfire days were long behind her by the fifteen year mark of her sentence. Now at the age of thirty-two, she had become completely and successfully institutionalised. It was quite a rocky road at times, but even the strongest will would eventually break down to a decade and a half of non-stop labour, punishments, and fucking.

Reports of Sakura’s misbehaviour had been drying up for quite some time, to the point that barely any crossed my desk by the ten year review period. After years of being flooded with them, it made my job remarkably easier. In fact, save for a few exceptions I’ll discuss in greater detail later, I can pinpoint the exact date the regular infraction reports ended. The date was the 28th of March on the thirteenth year of Sakura’s incarceration.

Sakura was brought into the Warden’s office on this date. She was as wary as a caged animal, fearing some sort of reprisal for some minor infraction the week before. But that was not the case today. No, the Warden called her into his office to _congratulate_ her for her thirtieth birthday. The look of surprise on her face was said to be a picture. The prisoners were provided no calendars, so Sakura had long since lost track of the date and her age. The only indicator she had for the progression of time was her near-annual pregnancy, but that was far too unreliable to be an accurate judge of her age. The surprise soon turned to horror as Sakura made the terrifying realisation that she had spent the entirety of her twenties in the prison camp.

Traditionally the twenties were the most active and important decade of a kunoichi’s life, or even a young woman’s life in general. But she had been forced to spend all of those years performing hard labour, being whipped, and fucking for food. Our homeland had claimed that decade of her life as just recompense for her crimes, as we would claim the next, and the next after that. We had taken something precious from her, and she hadn’t even realised it until we told her ourselves. It was a devastating blow to the rebellious criminal, and she was too stunned by the news to protest when she was unceremoniously escorted back to the quarry pits to resume work.

After that day, Sakura finally became a model prisoner; a glorious, unremarkable, cog in the great machine of Women’s Work Camp #1. Some of my junior ministers had expressed surprise that the simple news that she had turned thirty was what it took to finally correct Sakura’s behaviour. However I have my own theory as to why, and I shall mark it down here.

Sakura had spent over a decade of her life resisting the system, but what had she accomplished? She had hurt a few guards, supposedly even killed one, but such men were easily replaced. She had earned countless floggings, permanently marking her back and arse with the memory of her many just punishments. She had sold her body, pride, and dignity for survival. She became a masterful whore, and earned nutritious food, over a dozen pregnancies, and the hatred and envy of her fellow prisoners because of it. In short after over a decade of resistance she had only earned more pain and suffering for herself. What should have been the greatest decade of her life gone, and she was never getting that time back. In all those important years, what was she resisting? The prison? Why? It was not just a place she was forcibly kept, it had become her only home, an unchangeable fact of her life. How can someone resist something like that? There was only one answer; you can’t. And so Sakura finally accepted her life here.

So as her fifteenth year here came along, with nothing but routine reports and notifications of successful pregnancies (and subsequent sentence extensions), I was pleased to find a new note in my in-tray. Sakura’s prison brands had faded past the regulation amount. It was time for a re-branding. I resolved to make the trip to personally oversee such a milestone event for the criminal.

Travelling to the prison camps used to be very hard indeed. My round trip to visit each Kunoichi five years ago came close to killing the twelve-horse carriage team, even with time to rest between each camp. Thankfully, while the camps remained frozen in time, the rest of the world had not. Over the years I have become more powerful and influential, enough so that I could afford one of the brand new technological advances of the age; an automobile! With this fancy new machine, I could make the trip in much greater comfort than I could before.

I arrived at the camp in record time. As an added bonus, I drove the automobile straight to the camp’s entrance, allowing the prisoners full view of the machine. All production at the quarry stopped, even the guards were slack jawed. I spotted Sakura among the gawkers, and watched as she was one of the first to be lashed back to work by the quickly recovering guards. The Warden was impressed by my vehicle, but was not so thrilled that I showed it for everyone to see. He felt it broke the monotony of the camp too much, but I disagreed. I wanted the prisoners to know just how much time had passed since they had been in the camp. While the prison had remained static, the rest of the world had moved on by leaps and bounds, leaving them forgotten in the dust. My flaunting a technology that had not even been invented when many of these prisoners were incarcerated was a perfect example of this. I could see that very fact had sunk in for Sakura just seconds before the whip lashed her backside.

I had a lovely lunch with the Warden, letting Sakura sweat in the sun for a few hours before we pulled her away from work to join us in the Warden’s office. I took a moment to examine her appearance. While she had entered her early thirties, she had not changed too much physically. A bit wider in the hips, perhaps, a little thicker in the arms, but otherwise still very beautiful, in a peasant labourer sort of way. No, the greatest change was how she carried herself.

Now properly institutionalised, Sakura showed the proper level of fear and deference when brought before us. Her head was bowed and she had clasped her hands behind her back, which had the benefit of presenting her large perky breasts for our viewing pleasure. Two of our more intimidating guards flanked her from behind, and it was all she could do not to flinch when they entered the room. She was clearly wary, and she had good reason to be. No prisoner had their work in the quarry interrupted for good reason, ever.

As it was the Warden’s camp, I let him run the show. He explained that as her criminal brands had now faded to below regulation visibility, they would be refreshed with a new branding. The reaction to this news was a sight to see. Sakura appeared so stunned that one would think we punched her in the face. Though the best was yet to come. While she was still reeling from the news, the Warden dropped his second bombshell. While we originally agreed to allow her chakra-sealing brand fade naturally, since she was so rebellious in her first decade here it was decided to re-brand that too. We had actually decided on this years ago, as I have mentioned in a previous report, but we wanted to keep it a surprise. It was well worth the wait.

Sakura knew as well as we did that the chakra brand would have faded enough for her to properly use chakra again by her late forties. Re-branding it again would mean her chakra would be denied to her until she was in her sixties. By that point it might as well mean she would never use chakra again. The horror of that knowledge was plain to see on her face. Her dulled green eyes shook in unbridled terror, brimming with unshed tears. She kept shaking her head, as if she could ward away the Warden’s announcement just by denying she ever heard it. But that was a fool’s hope.

Finally, a bit of the old fire returned to the cowed criminal. In clear desperation, Sakura launched herself at the Warden. The guards were expecting this, obviously, and restrained her straight away. Over a decade of toil in the quarries had made Sakura strong though, and she began breaking free of their grip. Her fear had turned to rage, she spat and cursed at them, just as she used to when she first arrived here. She cursed the Warden and I for our supposed cruelty, the guards for stopping her from hurting us, and our country for ruining her life. The Warden was no fool, however, and the guards he selected were the strongest and most vicious he had in the camp. Despite the criminal’s wild, desperate, strength, they were able to subdue her, striking her with nightsticks until she was unconscious.

By the time Sakura recovered consciousness, we had strapped her in the branding chamber which was underneath the Warden’s office. Our branding expert (the apprentice of the man who branded her fifteen years ago) was already heating up the branding irons. This of course included the special chakra-sealing brand provided to us by our resident seal masters. She immediately started thrashing, but or at least tried to start thrashing. We had strapped Sakura in so well that she was completely immobilised. Even with her labour earned muscles she was going nowhere. This was actually in her best interest. The brands have to be placed _exactly_ where they were applied fifteen years ago. Any movement at all from the prisoner would ruin the brands, which was utterly unacceptable.

Sakura continued straining against her bonds, and we allowed her to waste her energy as the expert heated his brand to the right temperature. He calmly explained the process to the Warden and I as Sakura cried out in rage and fear. Too cool and new brand wouldn’t take, too hot and it would leave a nasty scar, which we didn’t want either. Eventually the branding expert deemed the brands at the perfect temperature just as Sakura gave up attempting to escape, sobbing the whole while. The process was done quickly and efficiently. Each brand was placed above a breast, on one shoulder, and on her whip scarred buttocks, in the exact positions the original brands were. The brand was only applied for a scant few seconds, in each area, but it was enough to draw fresh tears from Sakura each time. She didn’t scream until we reapplied the chakra brand. It was a wail of the damned. Her chakra was stolen away from her for virtually the rest of her life, and the knowledge of it broke her all over again.

We magnanimously allowed Sakura the rest of the working shift off to recover from her brands. The second resurgence of her rebellious spirit had been snuffed out by the branding, so she was once again submissive enough to mumble out a thanks for our generosity. We ordered the guards to leave her untouched for the rest of the night as well, the pain of the new brands wouldn’t make her a good fuck right now anyway.

The _next_ night, however, I visited Sakura myself. I offered her burn cream for her new brands, and she gave me the fucking of a lifetime to earn it. I missed out on her ass the last time I enjoyed her attentions, so I made full use of her impressive anal skills this time. After she had fucked me into exhaustion, and filled her ass with my seed, I allowed her to cuddle me on her sleeping pallet for comfort. As she lay beside me, she generously applied the burn cream onto her brands, thanking me pathetically for the relief I had granted her. I took her sincere thanks with good grace, ignoring the fact the brands would pain her for weeks afterward, and the burn cream would run out long before then.

After this night of passion, I left a more subdued Sakura to resume her regular duties for the rest of the fifteenth year of her sentence.

By the end of her fifteen year at the time of this report, Sakura had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to four boys and one girl. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Sakura’s total sentence after time served: Eighteen years and nine months.

Year Fifteen – Ino Yamanka:

Entering into her early thirties, the criminal Ino was unrecognisable from the stalwart kunoichi she used to be.

At the fifteen year point of her sentence, the criminal had long since adapted to life in the prison. Ino had for many years now used her feminine charms to get ahead in the camp, and her appetite for sex only seemed to grow as time went by. My reports for Ino are notably absent of punishments for infractions, but that is normal for a veteran prisoner. What is not so ordinary was the personal guard reports that were positively glowing regarding Ino’s bed skills. One guard even wrote a rather sappy poem, which I won’t include in the report appendix as it was truly awful reading.

Judging from what I have read from reports, and experienced first-hand a few years ago, Ino was a much better whore than she ever was as a kunoichi. A decade and a half of constant practice helped of course, but Ino had a real talent for it. This was all fine. Ino was well fed for her efforts, which in turn made her a better quarry worker. In turn the guards in Women’s Work Camp #2 were also some of the most contented workers in the nation. It appeared to be a win-win; Ino was not only a great workhorse, she was even boosting morale among our government workers. However, I personally had doubts. This criminal slut had manipulated the guards before, and definitely tried to do it to me when I enjoyed her services. It was the main reason that I never sampled her again despite how amazing she was. While the guards do not obviously do her bidding like in previous years, I have no doubt that they show their favour in other ways.

Fortunately the Warden of her camp was a shrewd man and kept a close eye on her. He was an elderly man devoted to his family, so Ino was never able to charm him like the others. Ino’s punishments were few, but even now she was caught once every few years or so with contraband, and was always lashed much harder than others for the same infraction. The Warden was of the opinion that she needed the reminding, and always personally inspected Ino’s time at the flogging post to ensure no love-sick guard was giving her a half-hearted punishment.

It was an interesting situation. Ino was virtually a model prisoner on paper, but the Warden was convinced in his reports that the wench was up to something. He had no hard evidence besides a gut feeling, but the Warden had been an overseer in our glorious penal system since before Ino was even born, so I trusted his instincts. It was due to this trust that I made my second personal visit to Women’s Work Camp #2 in five years.

The Warden greeted me at the gate, and we agreed to oversee Ino’s behaviour together for a few days, up to a week. It was rare for a prisoner to receive such high-level scrutiny. The guards turn in constant reports, but the Warden himself rarely takes such an active role save for deciding high-level punishments and general oversight of the camp. Involving a minister like myself in such an operation made the situation even more uncommon.

A quick addendum. I have come a rather long way since the junior position I had when our kunoichi criminals were incarcerated. I had risen so high in the ministry that I could’ve easily delegated the duties of overseeing the kunoichi’s reports to an assistant if I wished. I have kept the duty solely my own, however, because it was immensely enjoyable, and a break from my then-current duties of overseeing foreign affairs with our border nations. Indeed, the only reason I had agreed to do such grunt-work alongside the Warden was due to his mentorship in my early career. I owed the old man several favours, and watching a gorgeous naked prisoner go about her daily and nightly duties seemed a marvellous way to repay him.

And Ino was still gorgeous, even as she entered her thirties. At thirty-two, Ino had lost none of her stunning beauty, though the nature of that beauty had certainly changed. The lithe, arrogant girl with the golden pony-tail she used to be was gone for good. In her place stood a woman with the muscular body of a peasant labourer, burned brown by the sun and her sun-bleached blond hair buzzed down to her scalp. Her well whipped buttocks was nice and firm from hard labour, and her breasts were large and pronounced, with very little sag despite not wearing a bra for over a decade.

Ino’s impressive body intrigued me, and not just for the obvious reasons. After fifteen years prisoners usually show a lot more wear and tear than this, even if they were young and strong when they were initially interred. However, Ino still looked marvellous, and Sakura did too now that I thought about it. Curious whether this was somehow involved with her kunoichi training, I consulted a member of our Security Forces who was once a shinobi from one of these ninja villages. He explained to me that while the chakra in Ino’s body was sealed away, that only prevented her from _using_ it. The chakra was still circulating around her body. Chakra in high quantities act as a natural physical booster, slowing muscle atrophy and aging. It also helped the healing process along a little. While Ino’s chakra had atrophied somewhat from lack of use, she still had many, many times the amount of a normal person. Thanks to chakra, Ino and the other kunoichi were able to weather their time here more gracefully than others. Whether their chakra would _continue_ to protect them with so many years left on their sentences was a question only time would tell.

I have gone off-topic. While this information is relevant to the overall report, it is not immediately important to this section. Back to our observation of Ino.

Ino seemed to have a knack for knowing when she was being watched, likely holdovers from her kunoichi training. This often worked to her advantage, as she would make sure any guard that had his eyes on her would receive some form of flirty promise of future passion in the evening. These lusty overtures flattered the guards so well that they rarely lashed her for slowing down work while she was beguiling them. It was more difficult for the Warden and I, who had to keep our distance lest she realise we were watching and she changed something about her normal behaviour. A pair of binoculars solved that problem, thankfully.

Unfortunately, our vigil was not as illuminating as the old Warden hoped. Despite flirting with the guards, we could not spot anything other than model behaviour. By this point Ino had spent more time using a pickaxe then she had ever used a kunai or shuriken, so the quarry stone was easy for her to mine. Several carts of minerals could be attributed to Ino alone. It was always nice to see a criminal working hard to pay off their debt to society. However, this work ethic gave no clues as to what Ino could be hiding.

As Ino acted without suspicion in the day we resolved to watch her at night as well. The Warden found such voyeurism distasteful, so I allowed the old man to get some sleep while I watched Ino’s nightly interactions with the guards. I was aware the slut was popular, but I was still unprepared by the sheer number of guards who wanted to partake of Ino’s body. Damn near the entire day and night shift were standing outside the prisoner barracks. All of them arguing quietly over who would get Ino for the night, and who would have to make do with the other prisoners. Even the best whore in the camp could only fuck around four guards before needing to sleep for tomorrow’s work, so the competition was fierce.

Two of the most senior guards in the camp, the captains of the morning and afternoon shift, used their positions to get top spots. Another was a man who was owed many favours amongst his fellows, and used one of those favours to get one of the coveted positions. The final guard was new to the camp, and one of the beefiest men I have ever seen. His name was Bakao, and he basically threatened to tear the limbs off of whoever got in his way, and everyone else grudgingly backed down. I’m not surprised, his bulging muscles were enough evidence to show that he could have easily carried out his threat.

I observed from a spyhole in the prisoner barracks as the four men approached Ino. The wench was ready to receive them. She was knelt on her sleeping pallet with her legs spread, resting on the balls of her feet and her hands lying palms down on her strong thighs. The look of desire on her face was possibly feigned, but if it was then Ino was better than any actress I had seen in the theatre. At this time of year it was incredibly hot, even at night, and so Ino and the other prisoners were sweating profusely. The image of perspiration rolling down Ino’s whip-scarred back and the valley of her breasts was a tableau I would remember for the rest of my days.

By way of their seniority, the day shift captains were the first to approach Ino. They showed her their payment, a small basket of fresh fruit and a warm loaf of bread, and the inmate happily accepted the extravagant offer. The guard captains were close friends, and they did most things together, this included fucking the prisoners. I had never really thought of myself as a voyeur, but watching Ino get spit-roasted by the two guards was more satisfying than I imagined it would be. She was incredibly enthusiastic, gobbling on one cock while squeezing down hard with her pussy on the other. The captains swapped placed multiple times, so Ino often got to taste her own juices, which had coated their cocks liberally.

After being thoroughly stuffed with cream from both ends, the guard captains leave Ino to rest for a moment or two, and to clean up for her next john. The next guard, the briber, was a lot less interesting. He too brought an extravagant payment, a bottle of vitamins and a small bunch of potatoes. He mounted the criminal and grunted atop her for a few minutes before finishing quickly, rather disappointing really. Ino was keen to impress, however, and cleaned up the bribing guard with a sloppy blowjob. To Ino the bribing man was the perfect client, a big spender who was easy to please. It made sense that she lavished some extra attention on him. Still despite her efforts he did not last much longer. Though that was probably for the best considering who came next.

The burly guard, Bakao, approached Ino next. A decade and a half of hard labour had turned Ino into a muscular woman, but Bakao made her look petite in comparison. He was a true giant, who loomed over even the statuesque prisoner. He threw down his payment at her feet, a haunch of beef, generous. Before Ino could say a word, he had already removed his clothing, revealing that his cock was proportionate to his size. Ino had seen all shapes and sizes since becoming the prison camp’s best whore, but she goggled at the monster presented before her. Especially as it began to stiffen before her eyes, enlarging and rising up like a demented totem pole. There was a flush to her cheeks that was not there before, and her legs were slick with renewed arousal from her quim. Truly a nympho slut.

Without further pre-amble, Bakao grabbed Ino by the shoulders and lifted her like she was a doll. He placed her nether regions on the tip of his cock gently, almost lovingly, before slamming her down to the hilt in one violent motion. Ino didn’t even have time to scream before Bakao crushed her lips to his, stifling her voice and dominating her mouth. The mighty guard pumped the criminal slut up and down his shaft, using her as a glorified masturbation aid. Ino was clearly stunned for a moment, but she quickly tried to assert control, wrapping her legs around Bakao’s waist and raking her hands down his back, screaming in pleasure whenever he released her mouth. She practically sang his praises, and for once I don’t think it was completely feigned. If Bakao was flattered by Ino’s contributions he did not show it.

Ino was without a doubt a masterful whore, but even she was no match for Bakao. After releasing a torrent of his seed into Ino’s quivering slit, he threw her off his shaft and forced her face down into the ground, where he took her again doggy style. Ino tried to match the guard thrust for thrust, but the giant refused to allow it, he kept a tight grip on her waist so only he could control the pace. By the time he was done, Ino was fucked unconscious, her body was filled with and covered in cum, her face stained with drying tears from the overload of pleasure.

Of course, as arousing as that was, it revealed nothing about what Ino’s plans may be, if there was ever a plan at all. At the old Warden’s urging I helped him watch Ino for several more days. However, each day was virtually a repeat of the same. Ino would work in the day, then fuck at night, with little to no deviation in accordance to camp routine. After five days of this I had to end my cooperation. I had spent too much time away from the capital, and the prisoner reports were only a sideshow of my current position. The Warden understood and thanked me for my assistance regardless, but he still remained adamant that Ino was up to something.

To assuage his frustration at being unable to unravel whatever plot he believed Ino was planning, he scheduled the criminal’s fading brands to be refreshed just before I had to leave. Watching the normally confident and flirty Ino break down crying from the pain of her redone brands was a sight worth seeing. Although I heard some of the guards nearly mutinied when they realised she was in too much pain to service them that night. Her johns paid her handsomely in burn creams and ointments for several days afterward though. A silver lining in every cloud.

After this, Ino continued the fifteenth year of her sentence without further incident. One final note. The giant Bakao became a regular customer of Ino’s charms, but after a year he was transferred to a higher position outside the camp. This was a relief to the other guards, as Bakao was always unwilling the share the criminal with anyone else.

By the end of the fifteen year of sentencing at the time of this report, Ino had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to one boy (a giant of a lad) and four girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Ino’s total sentence after time served: Eighteen years and nine months.

Year Fifteen – Temari Sabaku:

At the fifteen year mark of Temari’s incarceration, her reports had become… somewhat boring.

If it were not for her background as a kunoichi and her familial connection to two Kazekages, I doubt I would even get reports on Temari anymore. Yes, the gang she formed had caused more than a little consternation, but since then Temari had done little of note but be an exemplary prisoner.

I do confess, however, to visiting Women’s Work Camp #3 more often than I visit any other of our penal work camps. Despite Temari’s status as a filthy criminal whore, I admit to having something of a soft spot for the mother of one of my children. The boy, who had been named Shukra by his mother, was a precocious lad. Only five years old, but already showing signs of mental and physical prowess, inheriting his mother’s hair and eye colour as well. I had already started grooming the boy for high office in the ministry, and I am more than confident that he would distinguish himself when he was older. Shukra was already more advanced than regular five year olds, and he was not alone in that. We’ve kept a close eye on all of the children the criminal kunoichi have birthed, and every single one of them have impressed in some way or another.

I was curious as to how all of these children showed high levels of physical and mental aptitude, so I consulted one of the ninja in our security forces. They explained that while the kunoichi’s chakra was sealed, it only prevented them from using it. The chakra still flowed around their bodies, and they had far vaster quantities of it then a regular person, even if it had somewhat atrophied from lack of use. As mentioned in Ino’s section of the report, this has been what has allowed the kunoichi to hold onto their beauty and vigour despite over a decade of toil. It was _also_ what made the kunoichi so fertile. Annual births without complications and miscarriages were unusual, but chakra supported them during pregnancy, ensuring no health risks, useful. What wasn’t mentioned to me at the time was that those with high chakra levels pass down this trait to their children. Even if chakra is not in use, high quantities of it act as some sort of natural booster, especially during childhood, granting the spawn of these criminal sluts a good start in life. At least physically.

Of course, unlike my Shukra, many of these children grew up in the state orphanages. While we pride ourselves on our care programs for the youngest members of our fine nation, I will admit that the facilities are far from state-of-the-art. Orphanage children have hard childhoods. The orphanages double as state-owned workhouses, and as soon as the children are old enough they are put to work. Nothing like the work in the prison camps though. Menial labour like laundry and clothing repair for girls and oakum picking and corn grinding for boys was the most common forms of work for the children.

While this is a hard life, it is not without bright sides. The children are well cared for and corporal punishment is never employed save for the worst possible offenses. The children are not prisoners, but wards of the state, and are treated with all the respect this deserves. They are also given the same level of education as any other child, so they do not miss out on career opportunities when they turn sixteen and leave the orphanage.

The children of criminals do suffer from some social stigma, however, and are often teased and bullied by other children when they are young. We hide nothing from the children and we inform them of their criminal parentage as soon as they are old enough to understand. We do not raise them to hate their mothers; that would be barbaric. They _are_ however raised to accept that their mothers deserve their punishment and that if they obey the state then they will help wash away the stain of their mothers’ crimes. Many proud and patriotic members of our nation are raised this way.

I fear I have strayed massively off-topic. Still, this information will be useful for future reports. Back to Temari.

Temari’s little gang has experienced some fluctuations since she formed it. One member had perished during a tragic accident at the quarry. It was a very unfortunate event and the guards on duty were reprimanded for their lack of attention. Besides that, two members of her group had reached the end of their twelve year sentences and were released as free women. It was reported that the normally stoic Temari shed tears for all three departing members of her gang. Tears of sadness for the one who died and tears of joy for those who were released. Although the Warden notes that Temari was bitter for weeks after the two had left the camp. Understandable. Both of those women joined the camp a few years after Temari, and left almost two decades before she could.

With three spots open, many prisoners flocked to Temari, begging to join her. The criminal had cleverly deduced how many women the Warden would allow in her gang before he started cracking down, so she never went over that limit. This was a rare opportunity for these prisoners to experience a marginally better life under Temari’s leadership, and the criminal kunoichi was savvy enough to allow a bidding war. Many prisoners offered food gained from whoring, others showed off how much stone they could mine. One enterprising inmate, a fresh-faced girl only a year into her sentence, was reported to have spent a whole hour on her knees eating out Temari’s pussy. Temari picked the prisoner who displayed the greatest strength during quarry work, the prisoner who scored the most food during whoring, and the girl who ate her out. There is some debate over Temari’s last choice. Reports argue that Temari took pity on the young woman who was only a year into her new life of penal service. Many other reports, however, claim the girl was allowed to join because she was able to bring Temari to over eight very vocal orgasms. It was probably a combination of both, but many reports afterward state that this young girl spent a lot of nights being Temari’s personal pussy lapper and her fluffer for the guards.

As for Temari herself, her time in the prison was otherwise unremarkable. She worked hard in the day, and fucked hard at night. She never earned punishments for laziness, and was appropriately obsequious to the guards. The Warden was rightfully wary of the respect the other prisoners gave Temari, however, and took steps to ensure they did not use her as a rallying point for rebellion. Very infrequently, after day-work was over, Temari would be brought to the flogging post and whipped until she wept or cried out while prisoners returning from the quarry watched. The sight of the normally indomitable Temari weeping like a child never failed to cow the whispers of revolt. These sessions are very rare, and Temari is left too weak for night-service afterward. Luckily for her, her gang is loyal and service the guards twice as hard on these occasions to make sure their leader gets a share of the food they earn.

Like the others, I personally attended Temari’s re-branding. She took the news surprisingly well, staying silent with her head respectfully bowed. Despite her attempted stoicism, however, she was unable to supress a shiver of fear at the pain to come. Her eyes met mine and I could sense the cry for help in them. Temari was smart, she knew I outranked the Warden and could order him to delay or even stop the re-branding. The wench had obviously realised I had a soft spot for her, and I was her last chance. I refused to break eye-contact and shook my head slowly in refusal. The tiny light of hope in Temari’s eyes died and she resumed staring at the ground.

Temari should have known better. Even if I had wanted to, interfering would have been a stupid move from a career perspective. Besides the re-branding was an important milestone for long term prisoners. Stopping it would have slowed down her rehabilitation, which cannot be allowed! It was all for her own good.

The Warden and I watched as the branding expert carefully refreshed the brands, being careful not to scar and ruin the prisoner IDs. Temari stubbornly refused to cry out until the end when the brand was refreshed above her still perky breast. Of course, the chakra brand was not reapplied like Sakura, so the contrast between the new fresh brands and the fading chakra seal brand was fascinating.

As is custom, Temari was given the rest of the day and the night off to rest. The night after that I visited the inmate. She initially gave the cold shoulder, somehow feeling betrayed at my refusal to intercede on her behalf, but it did not take her long to relent. I offered her the same burn cream I gave Sakura for the low price of her lips around my cock.

The offer of relief from the burning pain of the brands spurred Temari to greater heights. I have often sampled Temari’s body, but the blowjob I received from her that night exceeded all that came before it. Even as I write this report I can still remember the feeling of her hot breath on my cockhead before her soft lips closed around it. The sight of her gang members spreading the cream over her brands as she continued sucking on my dick was definitely a memory to treasure.

Afterwards we lay on her sleeping pallet together for a little while. Temari curled herself around me and actually apologized. She knew that asking for my help was foolish, and promised she would not presume on leveraging my favour again. I promised to forgive her for her little lapse in judgment, so long as she gave me her ass. By this point Temari had probably been practising anal sex longer than she had practised ninjutsu in her old life. She gave me a lengthy demonstration of her anal skills that night, and I was reasonably convinced that her howls of pleasure were actually genuine. I made sure to stay away from her pussy though, it would be hard to explain two children from the same prisoner. I left her and her little gang some high-quality food as an additional token of my appreciation.

After this I swore to stay away from Temari for a while. Sentiment can affect one’s judgement, and a criminal does not deserve such feelings, no matter how lovely or sexually skilled they were. Temari continued the fifteenth year of her sentence in the regular prison routine after my visit.

By the end of her fifteen year at the time of this report, Temari had become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Temari’s total sentence after time served: Eighteen years and nine months.

Year Fifteen – Hinata Hyūga:

Hinata Hyūga had become a model prisoner, and a fine asset to Women’s Work Camp #4. However, by the fifteenth year of her sentence, we had found a new way to use her for our nation.

Hinata’s reports had been rather routine, although they still occasionally made interesting reading. The criminal wench was a fanatic when it came to her work, always achieving above and beyond her work quota. Also, every guard in the camp could attest that her fanaticism carried over to her night services as well. This zealous passion, coupled with her fantastic body, ensured that Hinata was never underfed. However, this level of zealotry was not normal even among the most institutionalised prisoners. Hinata’s obedience to the prison system was brought about not just by the traditional process of grinding down the criminal spirit through rigid work and routine, but by a short sharp psychological shock. Hinata was not ground down, she was shattered. This sometimes led to strange behaviour.

Very occasionally, Hinata’s personality would undergo a complete shift. She would abruptly change from a meek prisoner to an aggressive wench. While she would do her work to the same exemplary standard we’ve come to expect from her, her attitude would be positively foul. Her night duties with the guards would become violent in nature, and many guards sported deep nail scratches for days afterward. Not that they complained, she was reported to be even better than usual during these times. She would curse her fellow prisoners with language one would only hear straight out of the gutter. The prim and proper noble lady she used to be would likely have fainted if she heard some of the words that came out of her mouth during this period. Not only that, she would repeatedly get into fights with other prisoners, taking out whatever hidden resentment she had for her life out on others. She was smart enough not to try this on the guards, but she was still flogged a few times for disrupting the work of others.

This periodical attitude change did not endear her to the other prisoners. Indeed, many prisoners who were interred a few years after Hinata were quite afraid of her, them not knowing the soft little highborn girl she used to be. I consulted a psychiatrist about Hinata’s mood swings, and he confirmed my own hypothesis. While our revelations about Naruto’s ‘betrayal’ broke what was left of Hinata’s spirit, a part of her was never fully convinced. This small part of psyche was deeply buried, but it occasionally surfaced as the dominant personality, hence the violent mood swings. Thankfully these periods were short and only lasted for a few days, less if Hinata managed to anger a guard during this period and was sent to the whipping post.

Still, this was not a report on Hinata’s psyche. While it was an interesting footnote in our records about the criminal, her mood swings were ultimately unimportant. Whatever her feelings on the matter, she would remain a prisoner whether she was a meek lamb or a caged cat. No, what _was_ important about Hinata was what she granted our nation; knowledge. Allow me to explain.

Shortly after my tours of the other three camps, I travelled to Women’s Work Camp #4 to visit Hinata. This time, I brought company. In my automobile were two young men, fifteen year old Hayato and thirteen year old Hizashi, Hinata’s two eldest sons.

Unlike the children of the other three kunoichi, Hinata’s spawn were raised directly by our glorious nation’s Security Forces. As they all inherited their mother’s Byakugan, the children of inmate Hinata were perfectly suited for learning shinobi arts, so our Security Forces began teaching them as early as possible. Within a generation our elite special security teams would be the equal of almost any nation on the planet, with only the big shinobi villages being superior. Many of the children from the other three kunoichi would be inducted into the Security Forces as well thanks to their natural aptitude for chakra usage and martial skill, but only Hinata’s children were unanimously drafted. Hayato and Hizashi were particularly impressive. At their young age they were already a match for most of our security personnel, with only our top elites being able to easily defeat them.

Their training and studies have made them truly formidable… but there was a problem. Despite several years of self-practice, the boys had no true understanding on how to use their Byakugan. We knew what public record stated about these special eyes, but the Hyūga clan were understandably tight lipped on how the eyes actually _worked_. To that effect, we briefly considered hiring the former Kiri shinobi Ao. After all, he once possessed a Byakugan that he had stolen from the Hyūga before it was destroyed in the war, so he could have tutored the boys. However, keeping Ao’s mouth shut about the secret Hyūga children in our possession would have either been exorbitantly expensive, or rather bloody, so we discounted the idea. Of course, the obvious solution was staring at us right in the face, and it took Hayato to mention it: Hinata.

While the chakra seal prevented her from using her Byakugan, the criminal wench would still be a valuable source of information. Why hire someone when we could just take what we wanted from someone already in our power? I immediately resolved to visit the camp personally, and after some deliberation brought along Hayato and Hizashi. After all, Hinata’s children had always wanted to meet their mother.

Arriving at the Work Camp with a brand new automobile and two teenagers caused quite the stir. The reaction to the automobile was obvious, but it was also beyond rare for people below the age of eighteen to visit the camp. Prisoners who had yet to reach their majority were interred separately in juvenile detention facilities, we are not barbarians after all. We of course ignored the prisoners as irrelevant and made straight for the Warden’s office to receive his hospitality.

Not wanting to waste any time, Hinata was summoned from her duties at the quarry to join us. I had high hopes for this little family reunion, and Hinata certainly didn’t disappoint. As soon as she gingerly stepped into the office, her gaze locked onto the two teenagers. She forgot all about giving the Warden and I proper deference, focusing all her attention on the boys in front of her. It was hard to judge given her exotic eye colour, but I’m sure that her eyes lost focus. She may have even thought her fragile mind had finally fully snapped and that she was hallucinating. Not surprising, inmates rarely if ever meet the children they birth in the camps, and now here were two strapping young lads who clearly resembled her. Their similarly pale-lavender eyes stared back at her own, judging her.

One of the first things prisoners lose is their sense of shame. Shame is not something Hinata had truly felt in well over a decade, but the sight of two young men, obviously her children, staring at her has brought it all crashing back. The blush of shame blooming in her cheeks was wonderful to see. She even tried in vain to cover herself in front of her sons, crossing a muscular arm over her large milk-dribbling teats, and a calloused hand over her well-used vagina. Hinata hadn’t thought to cover herself in many, many years, and this miserable attempt at modesty to preserve some form of motherly dignity was pathetic.

Hayato and Hizashi’s reaction was interesting too. Hayato’s cool gaze was filled with nothing but contempt for the criminal who birthed him. Hizashi on the other hand, was clearly uncomfortable. Like many children born from inmates, the boy had likely day-dreamed of meeting his mother. But these dreams are always when the mother was released from prison, rehabilitated, with her clothing and dignity returned to her. Not during the middle of their sentence, stripped naked and bearing the correctional whip-scars of their crimes. It did not help that Hinata was still gorgeous. In her early thirties, Hinata had a body that any straight man would lust after, a boy in the throes of puberty, no matter how well trained, would be embarrassed at seeing their mother in this state. Something else that did not help was the slight swell of Hinata’s belly, proof that another brother or sister was on its way.

Hinata’s maturing beauty kept Hizashi silent, but Hayato ignored it entirely. Hayato was a prideful young man, bordering on arrogant. While all of his siblings had quickly learned all our security teams had to teach, Hayato took to it like a fish to water, a true prodigy. He was a golden child, the darling of the next generation of Security Forces. The fact that his mother was a filthy criminal whore was the only perceived blemish in his blessed existence. Her existence was an insult that Hayato could never forgive. The fact that he would not have existed without her was something he wilfully ignored.

As… touching as this family reunion was, it was time to get to business. I explained to Hinata why we there. We wanted whatever special knowledge she had about the Byakugan. If she refused, she would be flogged, if she agreed, we would give her today day shift off. At this moment, the criminal paused. She had surrendered much to the camp already. Her body, her pride, her dignity, her sense of worth, her future… the list goes on. But we had never demanded she give up ninja secrets before. The Hyūga clan were almost rabid when it came to preserving their precious Byakugan. Many in the clan had seals that destroyed the eyes if they died or were captured, and it was considered a heinous crime to reveal clan secrets about their special eyes to outsiders. Whatever vestige of childhood memories Hinata had left gave her pause for a moment, but only for a moment. She had surrendered so much of herself already… what did giving up one more thing matter?

Her memories and knowledge had atrophied from lack of use, but she still gave up everything she could remember about the Byakugan. Easy ways to activate it, its upper level capabilities, and descriptions of the martial art that was developed around the Byakugan, the Gentle Fist technique. Hayato may have been disgusted with his mother, but he still listened hungrily to anything Hinata told us. Seeing his interest, the silly slut became more enthusiastic, perhaps believing that her cooperation would result in her eldest son looking at her with anything other than disdain.

She talked for hours, and the boys recorded everything dutifully. However, theory and descriptions weren’t really enough for the higher level techniques Hinata was talking about. The boys wanted practical demonstrations, but of course with the chakra seal that was impossible. Interestingly, it was Hizashi that suggested that they could return later in Hinata’s sentence, when she wasn’t pregnant so she could at least demonstrate the motions of the techniques. I suspect Hizashi just wanted an excuse to return and visit his mother, but I did sense an opportunity in Hizashi’s suggestion, so I agreed that I would consider it.

Hayato wasn’t particularly interested in future visits however. The boy was unreasonably upset that Hinata couldn’t be of further use. The boy always had a bit of a temper problem. Thankfully, he was assuaged from any tantrum by the knowledge that Hinata’s brands were scheduled to be refreshed. Hayato requested the right to watch. A cruel boy, he will do well in the Security Forces.

Like the other three kunoichi before her, Hinata was taken to the branding chamber beneath the Warden’s office and had her brands refreshed. Hizashi begged off watching himself, but Hayato took some pleasure from watching his mother scream. After that, I decided it would be best if we took our leave. I considered enjoying Hinata’s carnal charms for the price of some burn cream, but realised that doing so with the whore’s children nearby was in bad taste. As it was, Hizashi discreetly gave his mother a pot of burn cream before we left. I would have to watch that boy if there were future visits, we can’t afford to be giving an inmate hope.

After we left, reports stated that Hinata’s more aggressive personality asserted itself for a while, before settling down again, and she continued her fifteenth year of her sentence without further issue.

By the end of her fifteen year at the time of this report, Hinata had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Hinata’s total sentence after time served: Eighteen years and nine months.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates up to their twentieth year of incarceration.


	6. Year Twenty

We are now at the twenty year benchmark of our kunoichi’s decades’ long sentence. By this point they have spent more of their lives in prison then they ever did as free women.

Year Twenty – Sakura Haruno:

Now that Sakura was fully institutionalised, you would think her reports would become boring reading. Not so. In fact, during this period Sakura’s reports become more enjoyable to read than ever.

Three years after her re-branding, Sakura had been as quiet as a mouse. She worked hard in the quarries without a whisper of complaint, and the guards only occasionally lash her for fun now. Newer guards who joined the camps recently find it impossible to believe the stories veteran guards tell them about the fiery rebel who came the closest ever to escaping the camps. All they saw was a well tamed bitch who feared the whip as all prisoners should. Sakura fucked hard at night for her extra rations, and was still incredibly popular. The inner-rage that made her so passionate and popular in her younger days was gone, but nearly two-decades of experience had made Sakura a champion whore. The criminal slut never went hungry.

Sakura’s routine remained completely unchanged for three years: Work, fucking, the inevitable pregnancies, an annual head shave, and the occasional lashing for old times’ sake. It also looked like this routine would remain static and unchallenged for the rest of Sakura’s time here, until a certain prisoner was admitted to the camp.

At the beginning of the nineteenth year of Sakura’s imprisonment she by chance happened to be near the gates when a group of new prisoners were brought to the camp in chains. This wasn’t an uncommon sight. A new prisoner or two was admitted to the camp every few months. The same carriage teams (soon to be automobile teams) would deliver a new criminal for rehabilitation and then collect any prisoner who had completed their sentence back to civilization. It normally would go beneath Sakura’s notice, she kept herself rather isolated from the other prisoners, and was not one of the prison veterans who enjoyed harassing the ‘new meat’. But this time one of the new prisoners caught Sakura’s eye, and what the criminal slut saw made her stop and stare in absolute shock. The new prisoner had green eyes, and even shaved nearly down to the scalp it was obvious that her hair colour was pink.

Standing less than ten feet away from Sakura was her eldest daughter, Mebuki.

From what I read in the reports, the eighteen year old criminal was just as lovely as Sakura had been at that age, with a gorgeous face and body. She had a firm physique, toned from a childhood of manual domestic service in the orphanage, although she lacked the gymnast’s muscles that her mother used to have. She was also more tanned than her mother had been when she first came to our country, what with having grown up in our hotter climate. Most importantly from the guards’ point of view, she had a perky pair of breasts and a round ass. A product from the healthy lifestyle and nutrition all citizens of our glorious nation are entitled too. Or rather, what she _used_ to be entitled to.

I would like to say it was a tearful reunion between mother and daughter, but that would be a lie. In truth Sakura was still reeling in shock from recognizing her own child. Not that it was hard for her to identify Mebuki, after all, how many other people have naturally pink hair? Mebuki, for her part, was also too unfocused to recognize the sun-faded pink hair of her own mother. Processing, as described in the first section of this report, is a rather harrowing experience. Unlike Sakura, Mebuki did not have any kunoichi training to resist or ignore the pain and humiliation processing causes. The young criminal was still tearing up from the pain of her new prison ID brands. It was all she could do to remain standing sullenly in place with her transport shackles connecting her wrists and ankles to her new leather slave collar. Sakura could only watch with her mouth agape as Mebuki and a handful of the other ‘new meat’ were marched into the Warden’s office for orientation.

Now, how did Mebuki go from a citizen of our nation to as just another filthy criminal? I shall explain. Like all of the children birthed by our four kunoichi prisoners Mebuki had a great physical start in life from naturally higher chakra levels. Indeed, she spent her formative years as quite the tomboy, easily outwrestling boys thanks to her physical advantages. All of the reports I read indicated that she excelled in her academic lessons and her domestic duties whilst in the orphanage. All in all it was as happy a childhood as a ‘prison orphan’ in our nation could have.

She was one of a relative minority among the kunoichi children who were not drafted into the Security Forces or were poached for a high-level government position. Instead, Mebuki unknowingly followed in her mother’s footsteps and joined the Ministry of Health after leaving the orphanage to train as a nurse. By all reports she displayed true talent for medicine, and was soon fast-tracked to a position in the biggest hospital in the capital. It was a prestigious honour, and was something Mebuki had dreamed about, but it was not quite how she imagined it. She soon learned that she was not just invited to our top hospital for her talent and skills as a nurse, but for her beauty and body as well. The head doctor of this hospital, who was also the deputy head of the Ministry of Health, had taken a liking to Mebuki, and he wanted her to work under him, figuratively and literally.

Now, Mebuki not only inherited a healthy body and a talent for medicine from Sakura, but her fiery temper as well. At first she endured the lewd remarks and the ‘accidental’ groping from her superior, but the more she allowed the doctor’s indulgences, the more daring he became. Soon the doctor became bold enough to proposition her; a night in bed with him for the chance to become a qualified doctor herself. I’m sure Sakura would have been proud to learn that Mebuki brusquely refused the offer, preferring instead to earn a doctor’s licence through her own merits. However, the chief doctor refused to take no for an answer.

A few nights later, after more than a few glasses of potent liquor, the doctor attempted to proposition Mebuki again, this time making it completely clear that her position at the hospital was at stake. The criminal’s daughter again refused, and a scuffle broke out between them. Defending herself from the doctor’s attempts to force herself on her, Mebuki struck him hard across the face, with enough force to send him crashing into a wall. Unfortunately he struck the wall head first and died on impact.

The murder of a Ministry official, especially one so high ranking, **was an unpardonable offense.** Mebuki was quickly arrested and then sent to court to be sentenced for her crime. The murder of a high ranking member of government was considered treason, and often carried the death penalty, however, the judge was uncommonly lenient for a crime of this magnitude. The fact that Mebuki acted in self-defence was taken into account, and she was instead convicted of the manslaughter of a Ministry official instead of murder. As such, Mebuki was sentenced to the much lighter punishment of twenty years hard labour in Women’s Work Camp #1.

This was where I came in. By all rights and procedures Mebuki should not have been sent to the same work camp as her mother. There were clear regulations stating that prisoners with family that were also incarcerated be placed in separate camps. However, Sakura and the other kunoichi were tried in closed court, and their records were sealed from the public eye. The judge simply wasn’t aware of the connection so thought nothing of the assignment. At this moment I could have made the arrangements to send Mebuki to Women’s Work Camp #5 or #6 instead, but I decided to leave things as they were. I wanted to see how the mother and daughter pair got along.

Now that I have got you caught up on the background, it was time to return to Sakura.

Sakura was quite understandably stunned by the revelation of her daughter’s imprisonment. The last time she had seen her was eighteen years ago when she had birthed her. She was just a babe in arms when the guards took her away, now she was a young woman sentenced to the same wretched existence she suffered under every day. That night Sakura wept for the first time in years, but the tears quickly dried up, and for the first time in a very long time passion flared in her eyes. She had a purpose now; to help her daughter survive in her new life.

The new batch of prisoners were delivered at the end of the day shift, so after their basic orientation with the Warden, they were immediately brought to the prisoner barracks. Now, at this point the so called ‘new meat’ would be hazed by the veteran prisoners. The new girls would be relegated to the poorer quality sleeping pallets and were often physically and verbally harassed so they would know their place in the inmate pecking order. Many prisoners in their first few years would spend just as much time eating pussy as they would blowing the guards. Our kunoichi did not suffer this because of their taijutsu, but few women have such skills.

However, this time Sakura intervened. While the other new prisoners were hazed as normal, Sakura beat several other prisoners who tried to harass Mebuki. The other veteran prisoners were surprised, as Sakura had never showed an interest in the new girls before, but the surprise quickly turned into ribald jokes about the kunoichi inmate finally wanting her own bitch. Sakura did not deign to correct them, but quickly whisked Mebuki away to her own sleeping pallet.

Watching from spy holes, the guards reported how Sakura quietly explained their mother and daughter connection to Mebuki, who was just as stunned as Sakura had been. There was no room for either of them to doubt it. The only citizens with pink hair in our country all originate from Sakura alone. However if Sakura expected a joyous reunion between mother and daughter, then she would be disappointed. Mebuki quickly got over her surprise and grew bitter towards her mother. Blaming her, unjustly in my opinion, for her lot in life. It was likely that she was still upset from her recent processing, but Mebuki’s cold reaction to her mother caused Sakura more pain than any stroke of the whip.

Sakura reaffirmed that even if Mebuki hated her, then she would do everything she could to protect her while they were imprisoned together. The new prisoner was sceptical, but Sakura would soon prove her words.

The next day Sakura ensured the Mebuki stayed close to her on her first day of labour. The veteran prisoner explained the easiest ways to use the mining tools and the fastest way to earn their assigned quotas. Mebuki was cold toward her mother, but she was not stupid, she absorbed all the information Sakura had to offer. Soon the mother and daughter pair were working side by side, and I was told that it was a delicious sight to see. One older guard who had been working at the prison since Sakura had been imprisoned remarked how similar Mebuki was in appearance to her mother from when she was first interred. The contrast of the slim young beauty and the mature muscular mother was quite the turn on for several of the guards watching that day.

Alas, despite her youth and Sakura’s tutoring, Mebuki was not used to the rigours of the quarry pits. After a few hours she began to slow down, and the guards began to lash her for her laziness. Possessing the same inner fire her mother once had, Mebuki tried to fight back and in response the guards flogged her all the harder. It was at this point that Sakura threw herself at the guard’s feet and begged him for mercy. Far from being moved by the tearful plea, the guard was offended that Sakura sought to interfere with his duties. He flogged Sakura too and left the mother and daughter pair with fresh welts on their backs. For Sakura they were just another mark to add to the long history of lashings, but for Mebuki it was the very first of many to come. The guard who performed the deed had a few drinks bought for him in the guards’ mess to celebrate being the first to mark a ‘virgin backside’.

After her punishment and a hard thirteen hours of work under the burning sun, Mebuki could not believe it could get any worse. It was a naïve thought, but Sakura tried to nurture it. She promised her daughter that the work gets easier over time, and the lashings become much less frequent if she just obeyed the rules. The young prisoner wasn’t convinced, but tried to grasp the thread of hope her mother offered her. The hope that things would get easier lasted for about an hour, then the guards started to arrive at the prisoner bunks for night duties, laden with food.

As always when new prisoners are brought in after their first night, the guards approached them first. Despite getting pussy pretty much every night, they were always eager to try the ‘fresh meat’. Mebuki was of course no exception to this. Indeed, as the inheritor of her mother’s beauty and exotic hair colouring, she was pursued by the guards with much greater zeal. Of course, Mebuki and most of the other new prisoners utterly refused the guards advances, disgusted with laying with their jailers. But the guards were only amused by this. Every prisoner submits in the end, if they want to eat well, the defiance now only made the night they offered themselves that much sweeter.

Sakura knew this just as well as the guards did, and was determined to shield her daughter from the same humiliation she went through when she finally gave into them. Every night, when the day work was over and the guards came to check if the prisoners were ‘resting’, Sakura would become a lascivious beast. She fucked guards so hard they bruised, but would make them come back for more. Every night became a gangbang, an orgy with only one female participant. The criminal slut pulled every filthy trick, every dirty stunt she had mastered over decades of constant fucking. Veteran guards who had been with the camp for decades would remark that it was the most passionate Sakura had been since the famous incident where she fucked every guard in the camp in one night.

And it was all for her daughter.

Sakura pushed herself to the brink every night, earned more food than she could ever eat by herself, and then gave all the surplus (and some extra) to Mebuki. The young criminal could eat her fill every night and never once have to sully herself. But it was apparent to all that Sakura just couldn’t keep this up. Instead of Mebuki, it was Sakura who was beginning to slow down while working. No amount of natural strength could overcome the fatigue of fucking twice as many men at night, and after a few weeks Sakura was receiving lashings for laziness for the first time in over a decade.

At first unreasonably bitter toward Sakura for her lot in life, Mebuki’s attitude toward her mother changed rapidly. She was a smart girl, she knew full well that her mother was doing all of this for her. This act of motherly sacrifice cracked the shell of resentment she wrapped around her heart and Mebuki was soon reported to be reciprocating Sakura’s affection. However, she also knew full well that if she allowed Sakura to continue whoring herself out for both of their sakes, then she would die of exhaustion. A choice had to be made, and we were all pleased by the results.

At the beginning of the third week of Mebuki’s interment, she submitted to the guards attentions for the first time. Mebuki was young, beautiful, and was still somehow a virgin despite living in the work camp for three weeks. She was so unique that to the guards she might as well have been a unicorn. The guard who won the bidding war for her virginity paid dearly for the experience, but to all reports it was a price well paid. The young criminal was passionate and sensual, and while inexperienced her enthusiasm more than made up for it. All in all she was a great fuck. But what made the experience even sweeter was the look on Sakura’s face as she watched her daughter whore herself out for food. The defeat in her eyes was so arousing that another guard took her then and there, and both mother and daughter were fucked side-by-side.

The pair of harlots dined well that night, but no matter how delicious and plentiful the food, nothing would help them forget what they did together to get it.

After that fateful night, the mother and daughter pair were inseparable. They worked hard in the quarry pits and fucked hard at night, the experienced Sakura reluctantly coaching Mebuki on the best ways to please a man. With the energy of youth and the teachings of a master whore, the new prisoner quickly became a firm favourite with the guards. However, while the two slept together in each other’s arms, they still refused to do any ‘exhibition shows’ together, despite several generous offers of payment. It was a shame, but many expected this last holdout of dignity would crumble eventually, and the best things come to those who wait.

As Sakura entered her twentieth year in the prison, she held her daughter’s hand as she went through her first pregnancy in the camps. She briefly held her granddaughter (fancy being a grandmother at thirty-seven!), named Sarada by her mother, before being forced to give her up to the guards. Mebuki wept into her mother’s arms when the baby was taken away, and prayed she had a better life outside the orphanage then she did. Sakura had already told her about the three month’s extension, which ruined the usual surprise, but even knowing it in advance did little to lessen the devastation on Mebuki’s face.

By the end of her twentieth year by the time of this report, Sakura had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Sakura’s total sentence after time served: fifteen years.

Starting from this report we will also update the status of Sakura’s daughter Mebuki. By this point of the report, she had served two years of her twenty year sentence. As fertile as her mother, she had also become pregnant once each year, giving birth to a girl and a boy. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by six months. Mebuki’s total sentence after time served: eighteen years and six months.

Year Twenty – Ino Yamanka:

It took twenty years, but we finally discovered what Ino had been planning all along.

A year after my visit to Women’s Work Camp #2, the old Warden passed away. It was a true shame. When the old man worked in the ministry he was a mentor to me when I first joined, and so his passing was deeply felt. By time of his passing I had risen to a high position of power in the government and was rather wealthy, so I took it upon myself to arrange his funeral in place of his family.

Examining his last reports he was convinced to the very end that Ino had been plotting something, but could not unearth what it was. He was right. Unfortunately it was the bitterest of ironies that his death was the key to discovering what Ino’s end goal was. But by the time anyone reporting to me realised it, it was already too late.

The death of a Warden was a rare thing in the camps. Many retire before their mortality becomes an issue, but my old mentor was a die-hard believer in our justice system, and refused to leave. Many of the guards knew the Warden for their entire lives, so in their grief they forced to prisoners to mourn as well. In a rare break of protocol, they made every prisoner wear a black armband made of sackcloth for a whole fortnight as a symbol of mourning. If any prisoner was caught taking the scratchy clothing accessory off, then they were flogged. Few prisoners made the mistake of removing the garment though. For many it was the first item of clothing other than their slave collars and work belts they had gotten to wear in years. So no matter how scratchy it was they kept them on for the sheer novelty of it.

When this was reported to me, I found it so novel that I endorsed it on a whim. I have since ordered this silly act as an official policy to be enacted whenever a Warden died while still in duty.

This period of mourning ended when the new Warden arrived at the camp. This was where the trouble began. He really couldn’t be any more different to his predecessor. While the Old Warden was a crusty codger, the new Warden was in his early forties, a remarkably young age for a prison Warden. His name was Kantoku. He was sharp of features and in the peak of health, having once been a successful local athlete in his youth before joining the military, and then the Ministry. He had also displayed a keen mind, and soon rose through the ranks, until he was rewarded with the position of Warden. It was a mixed blessing. A prison Warden was a high ranked and respected position in the ministry of justice, but also far away from the capital. To this day I suspect a rival arranged for Kantoku to be sent away to reduce his influence.

I have strayed a little off topic, perhaps. To reduce things in simple terms, Kantoku was high-ranked, young for his position. and handsome. It did not take long for Ino to make her move.

Even as she entered her late thirties, Ino was still an absolute vision. Her body was muscular and burned brown from hard labour, but had not generated into muscular deformity thanks to the chakra preserving her body. Her breasts were large and full with only a little sag, and her hips and buttocks had widened greatly from over a dozen pregnancies. Perhaps at the peak of her physical beauty and sexual appetite, the criminal slut turned heads wherever she went. Before, she would use her beauty and natural talent as a whore to entice the guards into extravagant payments of food, but that all stopped when Kantoku joined the camp. As soon as he arrived, all of her considerable charms were concentrated on just one person, the Warden.

Whenever the new Warden inspected the camp, Ino always arranged for herself to be near him. She did not openly proposition him; that would be beyond foolish. Instead she launched a campaign of subtle flirting. In the beginning it was just a sensual glance here, a turn in her hips there. Then as weeks and months went by it turned into something more. A light touch of the shoulder there, a blown kiss here. Eventually it culminated with Ino kneeling down in the Warden’s presence to wipe a stain off of his boot, her face becoming dangerously close to Kantoku’s crotch as she did so. That night the Warden went to sample the flesh of the prisoner bunks personally.

It was not unheard of for Wardens to visit the prisoners at night, but it was rare. Mostly Wardens were either happily married or had access to professional courtesans from the capital if they were in the mood. Kantoku was single, and everyone knew that Ino was more than a match for a professional whore. With his rank he bullied every other guard away and took Ino for himself. The new Warden was definitely not a stupid man, he knew full well that Ino had been flirting with him for the past year for the sole purpose of enticing him to bed her. In his own report he admitted that since the wench wanted him so badly, then he would oblige, but it would be on his terms.

All reports I received regarding the Warden’s first liaison with Ino told me the same story. The encounter was almost violent with passion. They fucked for hours, Ino using the labourer’s body she had been shaped into from over a decade of hard labour and the sexual skills earned from years of nightly fucking to her advantage. But Kantoku was no pushover either. Years of training as an athlete and in the military had given him a powerful physique and he had had carnal knowledge of some of the finest courtesans in the capital. The differences in their status in the prison hierarchy could not be further apart, the lowly criminal whore and the Warden of the entire camp, but they found that in this moment they matched each other. A more intelligent guard likened it to watching an unstoppable force confronting an immovable object.

Finally, after hours of fucking in several different positions, it was Kantoku who gained the upper hand. Ino was incredibly strong from her prison work, but in the end the natural difference in strength between a man and woman won out. Their session ended with Ino face down, ass up, with the Warden’s seed coating her whip marked back. His cock filthy from their copious love juices, Kantoku grabbed the criminal wench by her three-inch length hair and made her lick him clean. Ino may have been exhausted by the Warden, but she still came alive when he thrust his cock in her face. The Warden intended to humiliate her, but Ino used her flagging energies to bring him to one more climax in her trained mouth. Irritated that the slut tried to get the last laugh, he threw her back to the ground. With a mouth and belly full of cum and covered like a badly glazed pastry, the slutty prisoner didn’t look like such a seductress then. As a ‘payment’ for her services, he threw half a loaf of bread at her feet. It was an absolute pittance compared to what Ino normally earned, and was probably the least amount she had ever earned for her sexual charms. However, the Warden stated that since Ino had wanted to bed him so badly, then she should be grateful he was giving her any payment at all.

Ino had tried to gain power by sleeping with the Warden, but in the end she was sexually humiliated and underpaid. By all rights it should have ended there. But the very next night, Kantoku returned to the prisoner bunks. The Warden had intended to humiliate Ino for her presumption, but it seemed that Ino’s skill drove him back for another taste.

Every night for weeks Kantoku and Ino fucked passionately. It seemed to be a competition between the two of who would end up on top by the end of the night. Most nights ended with the Warden dominating the prisoner, but there were times when Ino would end the night riding him to completion. Still, no matter how well Ino performed, she would only receive scraps of food for her work, Kantoku maintaining that since Ino clearly wanted him and no other, then his presence was payment enough. It was obvious then that Ino was in trouble. No guard dared to go after the Warden, so there was no chance for Ino to get food any other way but from Kantoku’s meagre offerings. With the lack of proper food portions, Ino’s performance during her day work began a slow but steady decline.

The Warden began daily inspections, watching specifically for Ino. Whenever she slowed down, he immediately ordered a lashing. If she was below her work quota, there would be another lashing. If she even looked him in the eyes, there would be a lashing. The lithe kunoichi noble she used to be would have broken from the punishment, but the burly peasant woman she had been shaped into could bear the correction, for now.

Eventually it all came to a head after two months had passed. The Warden once again arrived at the prisoner bunk for his nightly fun, but this time Ino was different. The unspoken war of wills between the prisoner and her chief jailer had ended, and Kantoku was the clear victor. Instead of approaching the Warden as an equal partner in the act, Ino knelt on all fours and rested her forehead on his boot. The criminal slut begged the Warden to use her as his cum rag, and Kantoku responded in kind. This time, there was no sexual war for dominance, only a criminal whore being used like the slave she was for the undisputed master of the camp.

After reading these reports of Kantoku and Ino’s liaisons, I believed that to be the end. Ino was humbled and Kantoku had proven himself to be the formidable Warden all prisoners should fear. However, instead of it being the end, it was only the beginning.

The very next day after her complete submission, the guards escorted Ino after her shift in the quarries to the Warden’s office. When she was there, Kantoku straightforwardly informed her that from now on she would no longer sleep in the prisoner bunks but in his private quarters as his personal bed warmer. Ino accepted the Warden’s proclamation with glee, and was immediately brought his bed chamber, where she would spend her nights from now on. There were obviously no personal affects that had to be transferred.

This began a new routine for Ino, which I will summarise here. She would rise from the Kantoku’s bed at 6.00am. She showered and then dined with the Warden with a hearty breakfast. She was then marched to the stone quarry to begin work. At 1.00pm there was a break for a main meal of gruel, and then she resumed her assigned duties until 8.00pm, where she was then escorted back to the Warden’s chambers. There she would take supper and then service him in any way he desired until sleep, where the whole routine would begin again.

I don’t think I have to tell you the benefits of Ino’s new routine. A comfortable bed with the Warden instead of the hard regulation sleeping pallets. Sumptuous breakfasts and suppers instead of gruel. One client to service instead of dozens? The Old Warden was right all along, Ino had a plan. She found the strongest man in the camp, and through a long campaign of seduction, had successfully taken refuge under his wing. Unacceptable.

This was not meant to happen. Prisoners should NOT deviate from routine this way, even by the command of the Warden. As soon as I heard of Kantoku’s decision, I rushed to Women’s Work Camp #2 at all possible speeds to chastise the man on being so cavalier with the rules. Kantoku was not a stupid man, and was expecting me. As soon as I arrived I was immediately escorted to the Warden’s office.

Kantoku was courteous, as to be expected considering our difference in rank, but refused to back down when I demanded he return Ino to the prisoner bunks. I was prepared to strip him from his post then and there, but the new Warden quickly explained his plans to me. He explained that he had been aware that Ino had been trying to seduce him almost from the beginning. He understood that moving the wench to his quarters was a massive breach of conduct, but also explained that Ino’s treatment had largely remained the same. Despite several attempts from the criminal to convince him otherwise, he still ordered her to continue her thirteen hour shifts in the quarries. The guards were also on strict orders to lash her for laziness, Warden’s woman or not. Her main meal was also still the regulation gruel. Kantoku explained that it was to always remind Ino that he could take his favour away at any moment.

I was still unconvinced, so Kantoku summoned Ino into the office. It was night time now, so she merely stepped in from the back room. At first the criminal harlot had a saucy look on her face, but when she spotted me she went white with fear, she knew why I was there. Kantoku told the former kunoichi that he had agreed to send her back to the prisoner bunks (a lie), and Ino immediately fell to her knees and prostrated herself before me. She begged for my mercy, and swore that she was a good prisoner who always did her duties. The little tart even begged that I forgive Kantoku for any perceived wrongdoing on his part. With her forehead touching the floor, she missed the impressed look I gave Kantoku. Even at her most submissive, Ino had never been reported to beg like this before.

Playing along, I told Ino I may just change my mind, but she had to convince me of her sincerity first.  I had never seen a woman in her late thirties move so fast. Within the space of a minute, my trousers were down my legs and my cock was being sucked to hardness in her mouth. She licked and sucked, nibbled and stroked, it was a heavenly experience. Indeed, it was almost so divine that I nearly missed what Kantoku said next. As Ino was working on my member he told Ino that if she _ever_ displeased either himself or I in any way, then she would be thrown back to the prisoner bunks like the pathetic whore she was. Upon hearing this, Ino redoubled her efforts, and I could only wish she still had a pony tail for me to pull. Not that I would have to guide her, years and years of oral sex had made her unrivalled by any woman except perhaps her fellow kunoichi. I groaned out an agreement to the Warden’s words as I spilled my seed in her mouth. Ino was so overcome that I agreed to let her stay in the Warden’s quarters that she wept with joy. Though I admit that to this day I still wondered if those tears were feigned. Truly, the bitch had been wasted a kunoichi, she should have been either an actress or a whore.

After I gave my consent, Ino spent the next several years up to the twenty year mark of this report as the Warden’s personal bitch. While she continued her thirteen-hour shifts in the quarries, and the work was never easier for her, at night she would return to Kantoku’s comfortable rooms. There she received greater luxury then she could have ever gained elsewhere in the camp. The Warden could afford more luxurious food than a mere guard could, so Ino dined well. Sporadic reports from guards who glimpsed Ino through barred windows even mentioned her wearing makeup and lingerie. This comfort came at a cost, however. Ino had to work harder than she ever had before to please Kantoku. Any whim the Warden had, Ino had to fulfil lest she be thrown back to the prisoner bunks. The lurid acts Kantoku described in his reports caused many of my junior ministers to mutter in envy. It made sense, Ino was a woman in her late thirties, no matter how good she was, having the same woman every night would bore someone like Kantoku. He could arrange to sample younger beauties from the Capital, so every nightly session had to be a showstopper.

Predictably, Ino became pregnant as usual, though each child whelped by her was obviously Kantoku’s. As before Ino was given three months respite for each pregnancy, but instead of being confined to the prisoner bunks, she remained in the Warden’s rooms. It was reported that in the early stages of these three month respites, the Warden did his rounds _much_ later than usual. In later times when Ino was too far into her pregnancy to do anything other than give blowjobs, she cleaned the bedroom like a good little maid. However, despite being the Warden’s woman, the children were all taken from the camp after they were born. Ino wept at this, as she hoped she would be able to keep them in the Warden’s rooms. However, Kantoku explained that he could not run the camp with children underfoot. Besides, the children would all be raised by the servants of his estate back in the Capital, so there was nothing to worry about.

Speaking of pregnancies. By the twentieth year of her incarceration, Ino had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth five boys, all of whom were the Warden’s. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Ino’s total sentence after time served: fifteen years.

Year Twenty – Temari Sabaku:

Compared to the other three kunoichi, Temari has continued to impress us in just how well she has adapted to life inside the camps.

Besides her background as a kunoichi and her little gang, Temari was a model prisoner, and had been so for over a decade. I admit to having a soft spot for the wench, but have mostly kept my distance for the last few years to avoid situations like Ino and Kantoku’s. That was not to say I _haven’t_ visited her on rare occasions when I inspected Women’s Work Camp #3. Now in her late thirties, Temari was still a beauty, though the wear and tear of twenty years hard labour have taken their toll. All of the kunoichi had a natural grace about them that they kept even after years of hard use in the camps, but after twenty years Temari’s gait was not quite so graceful anymore. Indeed, I watched one day as she plodded along like a beast of burden, pushing a wheelbarrow full of quarry stone to the waiting mining carts. Still, the profile of her muscular form caught in the setting sun, the fading orange rays illuminating the sheen of sweat on her bronzed skin, it made her utterly captivating to me.

Yes, the once mighty kunoichi and leader of hundreds of warriors was just another herd animal for us now. But despite two decades of mind-numbing routine, she retained enough inner fire and intelligence to be a _leader_ of animals.

Temari remained the undisputed leader of her gang, and the benefits of having a group of prisoners follow under her remained obvious. Together they always met their individual work quotas and often exceeded them. If one member was having some form of health issue, then the others covered for them until they recovered. Also, their group sex acts had become something of a sensation as word and mouth got around to the other work camps through guard transfers. Indeed Women’s Work Camp #3 get many transfers requests by the guards from other camps as they want to experience Temari’s gang in action.

That’s not to say there was _no_ discord among their group members. One of the oldest members of Temari’s group was in her late forties, soon to be fifties. She was considered one of the best workers in the camp when Temari recruited her fifteen years ago, but age had taken away the strength of her youth. Now she was often a liability to the group, with many of the others having to pick up the older member’s slack. Several of the less sentimental members advocated for her expulsion from the gang in favour of recruiting a younger prisoner, but Temari wouldn’t hear of it.

Many guard reports display puzzlement at Temari’s decision, the older prisoner was dragging them down, and keeping her with them was hurting Temari’s position as leader. However, I believe I understand the criminal’s reasoning. Temari didn’t choose to keep this older member out of any feeling of camaraderie, but out of practical concern for herself. The desert rose had at least another fifteen years left of her sentence, and she too would be in her early fifties by the time she was released. If she created the precedent of expelling an older prisoner now, what was to stop members of her gang eventually pushing her out of the group when she became older and weaker? Therefore, the older criminal stayed part of the group, and no precedent for expelling older members of the gang was created.

Still, the older gang member’s morale was boosted by Temari’s apparent faith in her. Her determination to prove her leader’s judgement correct allowed her to resume hitting her quotas by herself again, at least for a time. It was crisis of leadership that Temari successfully avoided, but there would be more in the future.

Speaking of other Temari’s gang members. The fresh-faced girl Temari took under her wing five years ago had come into her own as well. Under the kunoichi-turned-criminal’s guidance, the younger prisoner had become a hard worker, and a skilled whore. Although she rarely actually served the guards unless specifically requested by them. Mostly Temari kept her for herself. The young prisoner, records listed her name as Kana, must have known every contour of Temari’s cunt after five years of being her personal pussy lapper. As far as my reports suggest, the relationship was very consensual on both sides, though Temari was clearly the dominant of the two. Both of them shared a sleeping pallet more often than not.

I mention Kana because this next anecdote features her. It may come as a surprise, but many prisoners are highly religious. These criminals are the very lowest of society, the bottom of the totem pole. It makes sense that many put their faith in a higher power, an afterlife free of suffering. A reward for all their years of toil in the camps. In my opinion it’s all bunk, but our prison system takes matters of faith quite seriously. It’s not something I’ve mentioned in my reports before now, but every six months or so a priest of a government approved temple tours the prison camps to give sermons to criminals.

It wasn’t out of the goodness of our hearts. Polls have concluded that having a minister periodically attend to matters of faith boosted the productivity of quarry work. We didn’t even have to pay the priest, the temples _always_ received new converts to the state religion every time they visited a prison camp. The reason I’ve never mentioned this before was because our kunoichi prisoners have largely ignored the priestly visits. That was, until now. Temari’s bitch Kana was a new convert, and she begged Temari to attend the sermon with her. With reservations, Temari agreed.

The sermon occurred about an hour after day work finished, we wouldn’t want prisoners to stop mining for this after all. Most prisoners attended even if they weren’t devotees, simply because it was something different. The priest sent by the temple was a master of his craft. He expertly twisted scripture to rhapsodise about the importance of servitude, the inherent nobility in obedience to the law, and the joys of the afterlife for those who have done their duty and rehabilitated themselves through hard work in the camps. Only the most jaded could not be moved by the priest’s impassioned speech, even Temari was impressed, though not interesting in converting. Kana, however, wept tears of rapture as the priest confirmed her new beliefs. The priest was an overweight, balding man, and was definitely over the hill, but to Kana he might as well have been an embodiment of the gods she had converted to.

After the sermon was over, Kana begged Temari to invite the priest to their bunk. Ministers of the state religion were not celibate, so many a priest partook of the charms of their faithful so long as they were unmarried (strangely, the priest who attended the camps were all single). Temari was reluctant, but hesitantly agreed to make her bitch happy.

What followed next may have been one of the more humiliating sexual encounters Temari had experienced since joining the camp. Say what you will about the brutish nature of our guards, but all of them were burly and muscular men. This priest however, was far from an ideal physical specimen. In another life, Temari would have been a woman at the apex of ninja society. A relative to several Kazekages, a leader of armies, perhaps even the beautiful matriarch of a powerful clan, an example for all kunoichi to follow. Instead she was making out with an overweight priest while the closest thing she had to a companion in this harsh place sucked him off.

Temari had a mouth trained by decades of sexual service to almost be a sexual organ in and of itself. The priest’s hands eagerly roamed her body and pinched her well whipped buttocks. Kana’s blowjob was almost a tertiary factor in his pleasure as his tongue coiled around the former kunoichi’s. It did not take long for the priest to bury his fingers in Temari’s honeypot, and he crowed in delight when his hands came back drenched in her arousal. Twenty years ago this tub of lard wouldn’t have been fit to lick her sandals, now the criminal slut nearly creamed herself whenever her pussy was played with. The guards reported her blush of shame as a man as unattractive as this brought her into such an aroused state almost spread to her neck.

Soon Temari’s little bitch was on the ground moaning beneath the priest as he weakly thrust into her, the veteran prisoner helplessly jilling herself to the display. As soon as the man of faith had spread his seed to his devoted convert, Temari could not help herself and mounted the man then and there. Normally a man needs time to recover, but the former kunoichi knew all the tricks to bring men back to full mast. Within minutes the criminal had rode the priest to another weak orgasm, and she luxuriated in the feeling. The transformation to serious-minded prisoner to nymphomaniac harlot whenever she went to bed was always a turn on.

Of course, not even men of the clergy were exempt from taxation while in the camps. The priest was more than satisfied with the two prisoners and paid them with a big bar of chocolate each and a bag of sweet nuts. The two criminals ate their payment with relish, sharing the nuts among the rest of the gang. Kana was later reported to have prayed fervently for a child from the priest, while Temari appeared ashamed of herself for days afterward for losing control for such an unattractive specimen. Ironically, it was Temari who would bear a child from the union. Similar to myself, the priest had the baby girl brought to the temple to be raised by nuns. It appeared that Temari had a knack for being bred by important people.

After this, Temari continued her twentieth year in the prison camp without further incident.

By the twentieth year of her sentence, Temari had once again become pregnant on average once per year. She gave birth to three boys and two girls (one sent to the temple). Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Temari’s total sentence after time served: fifteen years.

Year Twenty – Hinata Hyūga: 

Twenty years into her sentence, and Hinata was still proving herself as a useful asset for our nation.

It had been five years since the criminal was first introduced to her eldest sons, and the experienced had changed her. Hinata’s psyche had always been rather fragile, even in the beginning, and decades of toil under the burning sun and nightly hard fucking had not exactly been conducive of a healthy mental state. The former noble lady had seesawed between zealous prisoner and foul-mouthed rebel almost randomly. Other prisoners tread lightly around her as no one ever knew who they were going to be dealing with. The guards didn’t mind of course. The devoted prisoner was a fantastic worker and a great fuck, and the foul-mouthed harlot was fun to lash and made the most fascinating moans after a good dicking. However, after meeting her sons the fallen Hyūga began to settle. The two contrasting personalities began to find a middle ground, and she rarely ran from one extreme to the other.

Having your eldest teenage son watch as you’re branded has a positive effect on your mental state, who knew? I jest, of course. It was likely the hesitant kindness of Hizashi that actually helped Hinata rebuild some of her broken psyche. Hayato refused to visit his mother again after learning everything he could from her in their first meeting, but Hizashi has visited Hinata as often as he could. At least once a year Hizashi visited the woman who birthed him, often bringing along some of her other sons as they got older. It was not something the high ministers liked, but Hizashi had risen high in the Security Forces, second only to Hayato, and so there weren’t many who could order him to stop. _I_ could order him to cease his visitation, I suppose, but I honestly find the whole scenario too amusing.

However, in this particular report I won’t focus overly much on Hinata’s relationships with her sons. In this section I will discuss her relationship with her _daughters_.

While Hinata’s sons had been given a long leash when it came to visiting their criminal mother, her daughters had yet to actually meet her. As mentioned before all of the Hyūga cow’s children had been drafted into the Security Forces, and were trained to become excellent shinobi and kunoichi for our nation. Their Byakugan made them incredible ninja, and we are now quite confident in our military forces, only elite ninja from the big five villages could defeat them by this point. Not that we have any particular military plans at the moment, but during economic negotiations it was always better to carry a big stick.

It was important to note that these children were trained in the most traditional sense of being ninja. That meant espionage and spying as well as great martial might. For that reason, the women admitted into the ranks of the Security Forces were trained in various forms of seduction. Hinata’s daughters were no exception to this, but of course we were not barbarians; they weren’t taught sexual techniques until they were of legal consenting age. The big ninja villages may have becoming squeamish about sending their kunoichi to spy in brothels and pleasure dens in these modern times, but we have not forgotten the effectiveness of the old ways.

Even at their young age, Hinata’s daughters all showed signs of inheriting their mother’s curvy proportions and gorgeous face. My superiors were confident that we would learn an incalculable number of secrets from foreign officials during ‘pillow talk’ with these future spies. However, the only one to have actually turned eighteen by this point was Hinata’s eldest daughter, Himawari.

Just as beautiful as her mother had been at that age, though perhaps a little more slender, Himawari was the pride of our seduction corps. A ‘proof of concept’ model if you will. If Himawari was a success then it meant that all those years training her and her sisters was not wasted time and effort. Throughout her life, Himawari had been trained not just to be a powerful ninja, but a fantastic spy, who could blend in at a daimyo’s court or a seedy brothel. There was just one final step she had to take to complete her training. Now that she was eighteen, she had to learn how to please a man. We already had some of the finest courtesans lined up to teach her everything she needed to know, when Hayato made his suggestion. Why pay a courtesan when we could just have Hinata teach her?

After reports of Sakura’s relationship with her daughter, I wanted to see how Hinata would fare. I approved the plan immediately.

Once again I annoyed the Warden by causing a stir in the camp. The prisoners had started to become used to my automobile, but this time I had brought the most shocking thing to the camp yet: A woman who was not a prisoner. All production in the nearby vicinity ground to a halt, as the prisoners looked on in disbelief and envy at the beautiful young woman I had brought with me. A woman who had all of her hair and was dressed in actual clothing! To the prisoners it was like seeing the sun rise in the opposite direction. The guards were equally slack jawed, but recovered quickly and soon lashed everyone back to work.

The Warden initially wasn’t happy with my bringing a free woman to the camp, but relented under my authority. Besides, he too was interested in the meeting between mother and daughter. Eagerly, we summoned Hinata to the office for the touching meeting between mother and daughter.

Hinata was quickly brought to the Warden’s office, and the reaction was everything we had hoped. The criminal wench had become used to being summoned to meet another one of her sons and explain the Byakugan, so she was probably expecting something like that. Instead she came face to face with herself from twenty years ago. I’m not exaggerating there. If you stood Hinata and Himawari side by side it was like looking at a before and after photo. The beautiful and aristocratic young Himawari, dressed deliberately in attire similar to what Hinata was wearing when she was first captured, versus the peasant prisoner Hinata. In her late thirties, naked save for a collar, belt and boots, whip-marked and burned brown by the sun.

Hinata’s first meeting with her daughter since birth brought tears to her broken lavender eyes. Though whether they were of tears of joy or tears of shame was up for debate. Himawari, for her part, was also at a bit of a loss on how to interact with the woman who birthed her. At least when Sakura met her daughter again, they were on equal footing as fellow prisoners. But the difference between a prisoner and a free woman were miles apart. Whatever motherly authority Hinata could have possessed was utterly destroyed by the difference in their social standing. Not that that mattered. Himawari had been raised by the state, and was too old to be mothered now. No, the young woman didn’t need a mother, she needed a teacher.

We explained to Hinata what we wanted from her. Himawari had already been trained to use the Byakugan by her brothers. Instead she needed to learn how to please a man, and who better than her mother? For the first time in a long time, outrage sparked in Hinata’s eyes, motherly instincts overpowering her common sense. Forgetting herself, she railed against the Warden and I. She declared that we could punish her as much as we wanted, but she refused to partake in her own daughter’s humiliation and shame.

I allowed the insults to wash over me, and the Warden counted each swear word that came out of the Hyūga whore’s mouth. Each word would be repaid with a lash later. Eventually it got boring, and I cut the criminal off by ordering Himawari to strip then and there. Without a single word of protest, the young woman quickly and efficiently divested herself of her clothes, proudly presenting her young perky body in all its glory. The tirade of insults died on Hinata’s lips as she watched her daughter stay standing at parade attention without a single thought to her nakedness.

Snapping my fingers, I ordered Himawari to play with herself, while explaining to her mother what she had learned already and what she wanted to learn from Hinata. The criminal could only watch in dull shock as her daughter began to masturbate right in front of her. One elegant hand was sliding between her pussy lips while another was fondling one of her large breasts. Clinically, with only a few pauses to gasp in pleasure, Himawari explained her training in detail. How she had been trained in our home-grown version of the gentle fist, and other ninja skills. How she had been taught how to behave in any situation, whether as a court lady, a maid, or a harlot. How she had been trained to view her body as an object of the state, not wholly her own, and to never feel shame exposing it for the good of the nation. She even went off script, explaining everything she was doing to herself now was pure self-experimentation, and how she hoped the mother she had always longed to meet could show her the ‘proper’ way to masturbate.

Whatever rage Hinata felt died then. She looked at me with eyes filled with despair at how we had trained her daughter to be a tool without dreams of her own. Knowing full well that resistance was pointless, Hinata strode over to her daughter and wrapped her muscular arms around her in a hug. She crushed her daughter to her chest (doing interesting things as their breasts pressed together), and wept into her shoulder. Through her tears, Hinata bitterly agreed to teach her daughter everything she knew about pleasing a man.

For the next five days, Hinata threw herself into the task. She started by teaching her daughter the best ways to gain pleasure from her own fingers. How to play with her clit and tweak her nipples for the viewing pleasure of whoever she would be serving that night while at the same time gain maximum pleasure. Then she began showing her all the best fellatio tricks, using a large dildo for reference initially, then the cock of a guard after Himawari had learned the basics. I’m sure Hinata was proud watching her daughter suck a dick for the first time. Himawari was certainly pleased with herself for making the guard cum in just a few minutes, and sincerely thanked her mother for teaching her. Hinata for her part couldn’t meet her daughter’s eyes.

For several days, at my insistence, Himawari had a front row seat for Hinata’s nightly service with the guards. The young woman would watch fascinated as her mother fucked the guards hard for food and vitamins. I made particularly sure that Himawari had a good view of Hinata’s pussy, and demanded Hinata explain what she was doing and how she was doing it. If the guards were disconcerted by the non-prisoner taking notes they didn’t show it. If anything it spurred them to greater heights of debauchery, all of them wanting to impress Himawari with their own sexual skill.

However, there was only so much Himawari could learn from just watching. She would need practical experience. On the fifth day it was deemed that the young woman was ready. It was a momentous event, the taking of the virginity of our glorious nation’s first Hyūga born spy. Naturally only someone of high rank could suit this task, and I was the highest ranking person there.

That night, Himawari was lead into the Warden’s personal bedroom (which I had commandeered for the evening) hand in hand with her mother. The young woman’s lavender eyes were lidded in arousal, and she was already juicing nicely. This was no blushing schoolgirl, this was a woman trained in the arts of pleasure, and thanks to her mother she knew exactly how to show it.

Having a beauteous mother and daughter pair bared naked before me ensured that I was already at full mast, but Himawari was determined to ace her final exam. My cock was engulfed by her warm soft mouth, and I delighted in the tongue that swirled around my glans. I patted her head and praised Hinata for teaching her daughter so well. The criminal Hyūga was ashen faced, but couldn’t seem to stop the hand that began massaging her milk leaking tits.

Himawari’s mouth was heavenly, but it was only the preliminary event. Soon, she had both got me to spill my seed across her face and licked me back to tumescence. It was time for the main event. As she mounted me, I made sure to look over the young woman’s shoulder to stare at Hinata. The prisoner could only stare, fingers slipping into her pussy, eyes wet with tears as she watched the daughter she never knew fuck me in front of her. Himawari was too busy moaning to notice her mother’s plight, the girl thoroughly enjoying the act of losing her virginity.

Feeling a little guilty, I beckoned Hinata forward and bade Himawari to show her mother some appreciation. In seconds the girl had latched onto one of Hinata’s breasts and was suckling her teats like a new born, which was appropriate as she never got the chance when she was an infant.

Hinata could only moan and held onto her daughter’s head, stroking her long silky hair and murmuring words of affection all while Himawari shook her hips up and down on my member. The sight of mother and daughter embracing this way was more than enough to bring me to climax again. After that Hinata took her daughters place on my cock, and it was Himawari’s turn to masturbate at the sight of her mother fucking me.

It continued that way for the entire night, with the criminal whore and her seductress daughter taking turns bouncing up and down my dick. Both women were thoroughly satisfied by the end and ended up sleeping in each other’s arms. I, for obvious reasons, was completely exhausted after having two women together and merely enjoyed the warmth of a mother and daughter pair sleeping on my chest.

After that night, I brought Himawari home with me to report the success of her training. Before we left, the little minx kissed Hinata chastely on the cheek, and promised to see her again. It was a sweet promise, but not one likely to happen any time soon. With her training complete Himawari was certain to be assigned to an undercover mission, likely to a high-class bordello of some other country’s capital to ferret out secrets. She likely won’t see her mother or any of her brothers and sisters for several years, but I agreed to let her visit the camp when she returned.

As we drove off, Hinata meekly waved us goodbye. According to reports, she was then taken to the whipping posts to be flogged for the insults she hurled at the Warden and I a few days prior, then sent back to work. We wisely agreed to wait until Himawari had left so as not to upset her, we weren’t barbarians after all.

After this incident, Hinata resumed her twentieth year of her prison sentence as normal.

At the ten year mark of this report, Hinata had once again become pregnant on average once per year, giving birth to two boys (another pair of twins) and four girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy added up to an extension of her sentence by another fifteen months. Hinata’s total sentence after time served: Fifteen years.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates up to their twenty-fifth year of incarceration.


	7. Year Twenty-Five

It has now been twenty-five years since our kunoichi were interred in our glorious prison system. For me, these years had been a marvellous time of promotions, wealth, and fine food and wine. Not so for our criminal harlots.

Year Twenty-Five – Sakura Haruno:

After a quarter century of imprisonment, Sakura was as institutionalised as a woman could be. This was good, as Mebuki was almost as much of a spitfire as her mother at that age.

Now in her early forties, Sakura was finally showing signs of ageing. Her breasts had begun to sag somewhat, and her thighs and waist had thickened as you would expect of a woman that age. Despite this natural progression of age, decades of sexual practice ensured that she was still very popular with the guards, but she was no longer the _most_ popular. That honour belonged to Mebuki.

The mother and daughter pair had become inseparable over the years. They did practically everything together. They slept on the same sleeping pallet. They showered under the same showerhead. They mined the same section of the quarry in the day. Most importantly from the guards perspective, they fucked them at night side by side, often holding hands as their johns for the evening ploughed them senseless.

In the camps, prisoners own nothing. The collar, boots and work-belt they wear are borrowed from the State, the mining tools they use are also similarly loaned. Not even their bodies are truly their own, as they have no real choice on what actions they perform with those bodies. Their work schedule is decided for them, and choosing _not_ to fuck the guards is virtually a slow death sentence. The only choice they could rely on was choosing which guard they lay with at night, but even then they had to be practical as some guards just didn’t offer enough food to be worth the choice. So with nothing to their name, the only thing Sakura and Mebuki had were each other.

In the work camps it was rare for prisoners to befriend one another, this was often due to the steep competition between the criminals for the guards favour at night. Even if a friendship was formed, trust was impossible. Guards reward inmates who inform on other prisoners with food and other such luxuries. More than one friendship or alliance has ended with one side eating an apple gifted to them as a reward while their ‘friend’ was flogged for whatever infraction the guards were informed about. An actual blood connection between prisoners was even rarer, to the point of being unique. Sakura and Mebuki were not only bound by blood, but by a friendship forged from their mutual suffering. It was powerful bond of trust between mother and daughter.

For fun, the guards wanted to see if they could break it.

Like many rebellious prisoners, Mebuki attempted to flee from the camp in her first few years here. She would have tried it sooner, but Sakura begged her not to, telling her daughter about all of her own failed attempts, and the harsh punishments that followed. Another thing that stayed Mebuki’s hand was Sakura’s refusal to escape with her. Sakura hollowly told the young inmate that escape was pointless, and _when_ they were caught, Sakura would be given the death penalty, like the Warden promised all those years ago. However, Mebuki was truly her mother’s daughter, and her fiery spirit could not bear the thought of decades trapped here. Inevitably, she tried to escape on her own.

Mebuki’s escape attempt was, of course, a miserable failure. Young and fit she may be, without kunoichi training she was nothing compared to her mother at that age. A naked woman fleeing on foot in the miles of wasteland between the camps and civilization was easy to capture.

When the young harlot was brought back to the camp, the Warden unexpectedly held off from the usual ‘welcome back’ flogging. Instead, he ordered Mebuki be escorted straight to his office and for Sakura to be confined to the guards’ barracks. There, the Warden got creative.

Ensuring that mother and daughter had no contact with each other, the Warden told Mebuki that he had received reports that Sakura was the one who actually arranged for her escape attempt. Meanwhile, the guard captain was telling Sakura the same thing. They are then both told that if they accuse the other, then they would be spared, and the one that was accused would be punished alone.

It was an interesting dilemma. The Warden reported that if the mother and daughter accused each other, then it would break their bond of trust. If Mebuki took the ‘out’ we offered her and blamed Sakura for the whole thing, or if Sakura feared the whip enough to declare it was all Mebuki’s idea, it would forever ruin their relationship.  Of course, if they both ended up accusing each other, then the Warden would punish them both harshly anyway.

However, the Warden underestimated the bond between the two inmates. Mebuki boldly confessed that Sakura had nothing to do with it, and it was all her idea. Meanwhile, Sakura confessed to the opposite, declaring that she was the mastermind behind the whole thing, and Mebuki knew nothing about it until she was pushed outside the camp. This, naturally, ruined the Warden’s fun, but he was good sport about it.

Still, a punishment had to be meted out, and since both parties were confessing to the same crime, then he would have both of them flogged together. The mother and daughter pair were strapped to opposite sides of the flogging post and received heavy lashings. At least they were together.

Sakura and Mebuki had proven once and for all that their bond was strong. But in our glorious nation, the prison always has the last laugh. A proper flogging takes time to recover from. The intense pain from the hard whipping was not something anyone could just shrug off, and for at least a few nights neither Sakura nor Mebuki would be able to serve the guards at night. Without the extra food the guards provide, healing from their punishment would take longer. While Mebuki could tough it out, a woman in her forties like Sakura needed all the nutrients she could get no matter how fit she was. Something had to be done.

For years, the mother and daughter pair had one kernel of dignity that they had stubbornly held onto. They had never ‘performed’ together for the guards. They have fucked together side-by-side and holding each other’s hand, but they have never fucked… each other. Even in this place they wanted to maintain some fiction of a proper mother and daughter relationship.

However, just like so many things in the camps, necessity overrode whatever pitiful dreams and desires the two prisoner might have had. With their backs whipped raw, the inmates certainly could not serve on their back, but they could have given blowjobs. But the guards, once again displaying animal instincts that belayed their general intelligence, refused. They wanted something different, something new. Both Sakura and Mebuki were intelligent women, they knew what the guards wanted, and they knew it was their only chance to receive food while recovering.

Turning to each other, the two criminal whores gingerly placed their lips together in a kiss. The guards, ever watching, whooped and wolf-whistled as the mother and daughter pair tentatively began to explore each other’s mouths. With the line finally being crossed between them, instincts ingrained from years of sexual service began to take over. Sakura’s delicate fumbling began to take on a new purpose, as her hands sought her daughter’s pussy, Mebuki for her part followed her mother’s lead and began massaging her senior’s slightly sagging breasts. Soon the timid kisses were full on make out sessions, both female inmates frigging the other to orgasm. The guards cheered at the sight, and the knowledge that as soon as the pleasure haze faded away, both women would be horrified at what they had done to each other.

But for now, mother and daughter continued to pleasure each other for the guards’ amusement as the burly jailers threw copious amount of food at their feet.

After so long, it was interesting to find that Sakura still had yet to find her true rock bottom. Every few years, there would be a tiny spark of life in her eyes, and every few years the guards and the Warden found what caused it and snuffed it out. Sakura had tried to use Mebuki as a shield against us, a companion to share her burden while at the same time sharing Mebuki’s pain as well. The stupid slut should know by now that in this place, nothing is sacred. After this incident Sakura and her daughter’s public and Sapphic displays of affection became a regular thing. This was much to the voyeuristic delight of the guards, who often paid them extra to fuck them then and there after the two women had frigged each other to multiple orgasms. It would take many months before the look of mortification on their faces faded, however.

Besides this, Sakura continued her prison routine as normal up to the twenty-fifth year of her sentence. With Mebuki wrapping up her seventh year under our care.

At the twenty-five year mark of this report, Sakura had only become pregnant three times instead of her customary one a year. Giving birth to two boys and one girl. It seemed that her fertile years were finally reaching an end. With a three month sentence extension for rest after each pregnancy, Sakura’s sentence had been extended by twelve months. Sakura’s remaining sentence after time served: Ten years and nine months.

Also, at the seven year point of her own prison sentence, the younger Mebuki inherited her mother’s fertility and gave birth approximately once a year. Giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy extended her own sentence by fifteen months. Mebuki’s total sentence after time served: Fourteen years and nine months.

Year Twenty-Five – Ino Yamanka:

Twenty-five years in the camps was considered by some to be a virtual lifetime of suffering. Decades of painful drudgery and torment, but for Ino, her life in the camp had become the easiest it had been for many years.

As mentioned in the previous document, Ino had successfully wormed her way into becoming the new Warden Kantoku’s personal bed warmer. This gave her an easier life than any other prisoner in the camp, but with this new role came new challenges. She had won Kantoku’s favour through supreme effort, but _keeping_ his favour and attentions focused on her would be just as difficult, if not more so.

When she was first interred in the camp twenty-five years ago, Ino was a gorgeous specimen of the female form, just barely blossoming into true womanhood. But over two and a half decades of hard labour and cruel treatment had drained much of this natural beauty away. Now that she had entered her forties, Ino’s spectacular body and face had started showing her age. Her full breasts had sagged somewhat, and her thighs and stomach had gained a bit of flab despite her brutal thirteen hour work shift and relatively sparse diet. The so-called middle-aged spread. And while it was hard to notice when her hair was shaved down, when it was allowed to grow out, streaks of silver could be seen in her formally uniform platinum blonde locks.

Now that her looks were beginning to fail her, Ino had to work like never before to keep the attention of the Warden firmly on her. Luckily for her, she had options she had not had before. When before Ino had to fuck and suck the guards for food and vitamins, such things were simply just provided to her in the Warden’s quarters. No, when she fucked the Warden, which was every night, she was gifted greater luxuries. Cosmetics, toys, magazines and even some lingerie (to be worn strictly in Warden’s quarters and nowhere else) were Ino’s new rewards.

Makeup and lingerie were the new arrows in Ino’s quiver. With a bit of powder, blusher, lipstick and mascara she was able to hide the damage caused by age and decades under the hot sun. A push up bra allowed her to lift up her sagging breasts, and gauzy negligees allowed her hide her aging body somewhat from Kantoku’s gaze. But such things were not enough. Kantoku had known many a painted whore before he was transferred to the camp, Ino had to dazzle and amaze. No matter how good of a fuck she was, having the same woman every night to a man who could have any whore he wanted in the Capital was bound to become boring. She had to please him like she had never pleased anyone before.

Twenty-five years of fucking guards of all shapes, sizes and preferences gave Ino a lot of experience in pleasing the male sex. Every second of that experience was used to please Kantoku. Every dirty trick, every filthy technique, every scrap of sexual knowledge she had learned went towards keeping the Warden happy, and I have been assured by his own reports that Kantoku was _very_ happy indeed.

However, while Ino’s life at night was miles better than what she had experienced in her first twenty years incarcerated, her day life remained mostly the same, if ever so slightly easier. While she no longer rested at night on a hard pallet in the prisoner barracks, she still rose from the Warden’s bed at 6.00am, and went to the quarry pits for her thirteen hour work shift. It was the main condition for Ino to live with the Warden, something I made sure of, the former kunoichi _is_ still here to be rehabilitated after all. Of course, being under Kantoku’s favour helped here too. Unlike the other prisoners, who had a breakfast of gruel and a lukewarm shower, Ino was treated to the same breakfast as the Warden himself. Although she had to eat it on her knees beside his dinner table. She also had a nice hot shower together with Kantoku, with soap! Granted she always had to clean him and then suck him off during that shower, but it was a small price to pay.

Also, while Kantoku gave strict orders for Ino to be lashed if she showed laziness in her work, in practice the guards were leery of whipping the Warden’s woman. It was true that the Warden _claimed_ to not care if Ino was lashed, but no guard actually wanted to put that claim to the test. So Ino rarely received a whipping, even if she slowed down somewhat. Ino, however, had long since learned not to push her luck and worked as hard as always to reduce any chances of a lashing to a minimum. Among the many whip marks tracing her back and buttocks, very few of them were freshly earned.

Obviously the other prisoners were beyond jealous of Ino’s position as the Warden’s personal bitch, but no inmate was stupid enough to make an issue of it. Anyone who wanted to challenge Ino would be signing their own death warrant, and they knew it. Ino had truly made herself untouchable. Except… that was not strictly true. There was one person left who could cause Ino harm in the work camp, and that was the Warden himself.

Kantoku wrote often in his reports about how happy Ino had made him, including many lurid details about _how_ she made him happy. He even, infrequently, in these reports referred to her as his wife. It may be a mental slip to use a word like that in an official report, but it implied to me the level of feeling that Kantoku held for Ino. Of course, to a foreign reader outside of the Land of Quarries, a prisoner being treated by the Warden like she was his own wife would sound like a good thing. In many ways it was, but just like in everything else we do in our glorious country, we treat the relationship between husband and wife seriously, in the traditional manner that has been forgotten by many countries outside of ours. In our country, the husband was the undisputed head of the household, and the wife’s duties were to cook, clean, bear children and please and obey her husband in all things. It was one of those things other countries complain about when they discuss our domestic policies and culture, but we promptly ignore them.

It was good that Ino had a slightly easier time during her work shift, as she soon learned that the duties of being the Warden’s ‘wife’ would take up all of her attention at night. Not only did she have to fuck him with the intensity of a woman half her age, she had to clean his rooms and wait on him hand and foot. She washed him in the shower, she shaved him, and she fetched his slippers, that sort of thing. The real work came when she inevitably became pregnant. Just as policy declares, Ino spent the last three months of her pregnancies away from work, but instead of the prisoner barracks, she spent the time resting in the Warden’s rooms. But rather than this be a time of rest, Ino was worked harder than before. Kantoku excused Ino from cooking his meals because of the time she spent in the quarries, but now she had no excuse.

Of course, Ino had not cooked a meal in decades, and my intuition tells me that the former daddy’s princess didn’t do much cooking for herself even before she was imprisoned. Her first attempts at cooking for Kantoku were miserable failures, and like any good ‘husband’, the Warden made is displeasure know by giving the silly slut a spanking with his belt. Pain and fear of losing Kantoku’s favour was a powerful motivator, and Ino quickly learned to prepare simple dishes in her three months of convalescence. The Warden eventually grudgingly accepted that his ‘wife’ was not terrible at cooking and generously allowed her to kneel at his feet while he fed her scraps from the meal that she had prepared herself. It was proper traditional Land of Quarries marriage, heart-warming to read about.

This became Ino’s life for the next several years up to the twenty-fifth mark of this report. During this time, Ino became pregnant four times, bearing the Warden three boys and one girl. Kantoku was elated at having more male heirs to his house and a daughter he could use for a future marriage alliance. Although he became leery that Ino failed to become pregnant one year despite being bred every night. It seems that Ino’s days as a breeder were coming to an end. With a three month sentence extension for each three months of convalesce, Ino’s sentence had been extended by fifteen months. Ino’s remaining sentence after time served: Eleven years.

Year Twenty-Five – Temari Sabaku:

It was always fun to check in on Temari. Twenty-five years of hard working service to our nation, and she was still going strong. Although… it certainly wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Indeed, after a quarter of a century, the cracks were beginning to show.

Now in her forties, Temari was finally beginning to show her age. Her breasts had sagged a little (though still very full), and her body had lost some of the tone it had had from years of kunoichi training and decades of prison labour. However, even now she was still a gorgeous woman, there were women several years her junior in brothels who did not look half as good. Still, she had gone from beautiful to ‘beautiful for her age’.

Temari’s dip in physicality would proof dangerous for her. For two decades, the desert tart had been at the top of the inmate food chain, the leader of the pack. Now, however, there were those who coveted her position in the inmate hierarchy as the ‘top bitch’. In the past she could have dealt with challengers with ease thanks to her fit, tight body and her kunoichi taijutsu. But age was causing her to slow down a little, and Temari had not had the time or opportunity to practice her taijutsu forms in nearly a quarter-century. Younger prisoners who had replaced dead or freed inmates in Temari’s gang were starting to question why someone who was weaker than them was the leader.

Inevitably, prisoners would rise up to challenge Temari for leadership of the gang. The veteran inmate would always accept these challenges, and she would always prevail. But every victory appeared a little harder than the last. The criminal whores who populate our camps are jackals, they could smell blood in the water. There used to be a challenger every few years, now it was roughly every few months. If it continued this way, Temari would eventually be defeated, but she was not a stupid woman, she had a plan.

Temari had been training a secret weapon to help her overcome her innumerable challengers; her personal bitch Kana. A decade of hard labour had made the formerly fresh faced girl into a muscular woman and a veteran prisoner. Having been indoctrinated almost since day one by Temari, Kana had been suitably prepped to become the desert slut’s bodyguard. Now whenever there was a challenger for Temari’s top spot, they had to get through Kana first. Challengers rarely overcame Kana, and when they did, they were too beaten to put up much of a fight against Temari.

This solved Temari’s problem with challengers, but in its place formed a new one. Having Kana fighting most of her battles for her increased her own reputation in the gang. To the point that a few whispered that Kana should be the one in charge, and it was a view that Kana began to share. Kana began insisting that Temari share leadership of the gang with her as payment for her continued help in beating challengers for the top spot. Having little choice, Temari agreed.

This began a slow but steady shift in power among the camp prisoners in Women’s Work Camp #3. Where once everyone in the gang went to Temari to make decisions, now more and more of them went to ask Kana’s advice instead. Sometimes if Temari gave an order, others would look to Kana for confirmation before actually obeying. The only thing Temari could have any claim to, her control over a group of other prisoners, was crumbling away.

As the dynamics of leadership changed, so did Temari’s sexual relationship with Kana. When they weren’t pleasing the guards, Kana used to spend her remaining time before sleep licking Temari to climax. Now however, Kana demanded reciprocity, and Temari agreed feeling it was only fair since Kana was doing so much for her now. So Temari soon found her face covered in cunt slime, eating out her former prison bitch as if she was an equal.

It was interesting to me, knowing the proud strong woman that so intrigued me years ago had become to regress not only in body but in spirit too. I almost decided to visit, but held myself back. My son Shura, now a teenager, had expressed an interest in visiting his mother, but unlike the Hyūga spawn I have refused to allow it. Visiting the inmate myself without bringing him would just insult him. No, Temari could wait until Shura had lost some of his interest, she certainly wasn’t going anywhere after all.

Unfortunately, there was little else to report for Temari. The woman had accepted her place in the work camp decades ago, and any attempts had rebellion had long since faded. Also while her position in the prisoner hierarchy was teetering, it had not yet collapsed by the twenty-five year mark of this document. Still, I remain fascinated with Temari, and will see how she handles her what little grace she had left slipping away.

By the twenty-five year mark of this report, Temari had become pregnant three times in the last five years. Giving birth to a boy and two girls. Like the other kunoichi her years as our kunoichi breeding bitch was reaching the end of her fertility. With a three month sentence extension for each convalescence period, Temari’s sentence had been extended by twelve months. Temari’s remaining sentence after time served: Ten years and nine months.

Year Twenty-Five – Hinata Hyūga:

Sometimes the years feel like they’ve gone by in a flash. That I had woken up and the provincial capital I knew in my youth had become this economic behemoth of industry overnight. The sight of my glorious nation prospering from decades of well negotiated trade deals and a growing market for our rare earth minerals always fill me with pride. I feel like a new man, still as young and vigorous as when I first entered the Ministry.

Then I visit the prison camps and look at Hinata, and all of those years come back in a rush of age and time gone by.

Hinata has changed greatly from the quarter-century in our care. Gone was the young ivory-skinned goddess with long flowing raven locks. In her place, hunched over another wheelbarrow full of quarry stone was a woman in her forties. Burned brown by the sun, and her luxurious hair recently cropped down to her scalp once again, her massive breasts were finally being pulled down by the weight of gravity and the fact she hasn’t worn a support bra for over twenty-five years. Still, while her tits had sagged noticeably they were still a sight to behold, and they still dribbled milk on occasion, which made them a delicacy among the guards.

Yes, as a beauty Hinata’s star was fading, but she still retained her status as one of the camp’s most popular whores. Many of the guards loved the novelty of fucking a noblewoman even now. Although some of the new guards cannot believe it when they’re informed that the meek whip-marked prisoner entering into her middle-age was once the heiress of a powerful ninja clan. One of the youngest guards even laughed in a veteran’s face, thinking it to be a lie, and a stupid one at that. Interestingly, that guard was sporting two black eyes for quite some time afterward.

Her unearthly beauty was not the only thing Hinata had lost during her internment here. Decades of hard manual labour had hardened her muscles, but had also caused her to lose her natural flexibility. That sinuous noble grace that had always seemed a part of her had faded away as her body moulded itself into that of a criminal peasant bitch. Unfortunately, Hinata’s style of taijutsu required a certain level of agility, which Hinata now lacked. It made her vulnerable, which was the most dangerous thing one could be in the prison camps.

Other prisoners, jealous of Hinata’s enduring popularity despite her age, noticed the Hyūga cow’s lessening in her ability to fend off opponents. Like the pack of jackals these criminal sluts are, they began to stalk Hinata’s movements. They observed how she could still handily beat one or two prisoners during a brawl for dominance, but that her elegant taijutsu moves had regressed into more brutish brawling. They saw her pant for breath whenever she won a fight, something that had never happened before. They saw the slight tremble of her hands caused by decades of swinging a pickaxe into hard stone. They made their move.

A group of the strongest prisoners in the camp, many twenty years Hinata’s junior, ambushed her an hour after her latest work shift. As usual Hinata fought hard, but the years had stolen away her skill, and her Gentle Fist style had always required chakra to work properly to begin with. It was a hard fought fight, but it was also very brief. Unable to beat so many opponents, Hinata soon found herself beaten into the ground, a boot grinding her still pretty face into the dirt.

Prisoners die in the camps. It is a regrettable occurrence that we work hard to avoid whenever possible. We can’t rehabilitate the dead after all. However, despite the guards’ vigilance and the best efforts of our camp doctors, it can still happen. A prisoner could die of overwork, dehydration, lack of nutrition, being accidentally flogged too hard, suicide, or simply old age. However, another reason a prisoner could die was during a brawl between inmates. It was not unheard of for a criminal to push things just a little too far, and cause just too much damage for the defeated prisoner to ever get up again. It happens, more importantly in this instance, Hinata has seen it happen before.

The inmates that crowded over Hinata’s prone form laughed and mocked at the woman who had always been more popular than them for the guards’ favour. Their leader, her boot pressing into Hinata’s face, made a simple demand; accept her authority over her and beg for mercy or have her skull crushed underfoot.

Hinata was a survivor. She begged. There were tears in her lavender eyes as she pleaded for mercy. Despite being hardened over decades in the prison, despite her mental instabilities giving her a stronger personality, at her core the Hyūga cow was still soft.

Appearances were everything in the prison. The moment Hinata begged, any fear the inmates may have had of her from her decades of beating other prisoners evaporated. The only thing Hinata had left, her high position on the inmate totem pole, was toppled, and for quite a while afterward, life became even more difficult for her than before.

The ringleader of the prisoners who beat Hinata claimed the aging wench as her own personal bitch. The former Hyūga lady used to only suffer in the day, now she suffered at night too underneath the prisoners who beat her. Hinata quickly learned how to munch carpet or would suffer another beating from the prisoner who defeated her.

It was a very rare new experience for Hinata. I once had a member of our accounting department calculate how many times she had fucked and sucked the guards since her internment. An average of four guards a night, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year for almost twenty-five years lead up to Hinata pleasuring men over thirty-five thousand times since being imprisoned. In all of that time Hinata had never once licked pussy, remarkable. I’m sure with the benefit of hindsight that she was happy to have done something new for the first time in a decade or so.

This new torment lasted months for Hinata, and only finally ended when she received a visit from one of her sons, Hizashi. Like all of her sons, Hizashi had risen high in the hierarchy of his birth country. He was now a confident man, second only to his eldest brother in the ranks of our elite Security Forces and a man feared by many Ministers and enemy shinobi alike. He was powerful, strong in the Byakugan inherited from his mother, and highly skilled in the arts of war. He only had one flaw; he was a complete and utter mommy’s boy despite his mother being an aging criminal whore.

Someone of his status arriving at a lowly prison camp was always something of a circus. The Warden and the senior guard captains had to greet Hizashi personally, and Hizashi in turn had to follow the general niceties of lunch and tea before ordering his mother be presented to him. For their part, the other guards had a busy few hours whipping the gawking prisoners back to work. While Hinata’s children were semi-regular visitors, it was not always one saw an automobile, especially the more modern versions someone like Hizashi was able to afford.

Of course the difficulties occurred when Hinata was finally presented to her second eldest son after her 1.00pm gruel. As mentioned before, the broodmare of the entire Hyūga line in our country was no longer the beautiful Madonna she once was. Hizashi, for his part, was not the bashful teenager he used to be when he first met his mother. He did not timidly avert his eyes at Hinata’s nakedness, nor did she bother to try and hide herself. Being naked had been her natural state for twenty-five years, it wasn’t something she thought about now.

The reports I received about their little chats were always ridiculous to me. Two people sitting opposite each other around a little table in the Warden’s office. Sipping tea and chatting as if they were a proper mother and son. I can still picture the scene. One, a young man in his prime and in a position of true power, fully clothed and powerful. The other, an aging wench fallen from grace decades ago, stripped of both clothing and any form of dignity

The two have some nice mother and son bonding time. Like a good loyal boy Hizashi serves Hinata tea personally (which scandalizes the Warden) and the boy’s mother then praises him for being kind enough to visit her and what a wonderful son he was. I personally believe Hinata was just telling the boy what he wanted to hear. Decades of imprisonment where the only fun one could have was rough sex with vicious men tends to breed a healthy amount of fear in the prisoners. Her son he may be, but Hizashi was also a man, and Hinata would never know whether he would one day turn on her like every other man she had known during her internment. She _did_ show gratitude for the time off work though, and I’m reasonably certain that gratitude was not faked.

This insipid little chat continued for some time, but as the platitudes wore thin, Hizashi began examining his mother’s physical state. Hizashi, like all of Hinata’s spawn, was very observant. He overlooked her whipping scars, as he had been indoctrinated to accept that Hinata deserved her punishments here. He also ignored the milk dribbling from her sagging teats, as had avoided thinking about his mother in a sexual light for years. What he couldn’t ignore, however, was the bruising across her body, marks left by hands too small to belong to a burly guard, and the chapped lips caused by hours of lapping pussy. As the young man finally put two and two together he interrupted Hinata’s useless chatter and ordered her to tell him which prisoner beat her.

Far from being uncomfortable with Hizashi suddenly confronting her, Hinata finally relaxed. She was much more used to being ordered around then being spoken nicely to. Obeying her high-ranking son, Hinata dutifully explained that she had been beaten by a group of prisoners and the sexual proclivities they had forced upon her. Enraged, Hizashi demanded their prisoner ID numbers, which the Warden provided. The Warden, like Hinata, was much more relaxed with this form of attitude. Hizashi’s earlier attempts to play-act the doting son was just as uncomfortable to both prisoner and jail keeper.

Without delay, the prisoners who were identified were dragged from their work posts by the guards on Hizashi’s order. Every member of the group that beat Hinata were strung up to whipping posts set up just for just this occasion. This was quite the spectacle, so several prisoners began to watch. Normally the guards would have lashed them back to work, but they were waved off by Hizashi; he wanted witnesses. Borrowing the Warden’s personal whip, the Hyūga warrior approached each of the bound prisoners one by one and proceeded to flog them. The guards are muscular men, and are never gentle, but compared to Hizashi’s chakra enhanced strength, they might as well have been children.

Every single strike from his whip opened the prisoners up nearly to the bone. Their wails of torment filled the camp and could likely be heard for a mile around if there was anyone in that wasteland that cared. His face contorted in fury, Hizashi walked up and down the line of screaming prisoners, lashing them almost randomly across their backs and buttocks. Rivulets of blood ran down their writhing frames to soak in the dry sand beneath them.

With the level of pain involved it was not surprising that the prisoners lapsed into unconsciousness. But that was not enough of Hizashi, using his knowledge of chakra points, he used his Gentle Fist to wake them up and keep them awake. He roared to the witnesses that the prisoners who dared harm his mother were not allowed to sleep through their punishment. Indeed, such was his rage that he likely would have continued flogging them until they were dead. Thankfully, one particularly brave prison doctor interceded and explained that prisoners were not allowed to be killed like this, and even someone as high ranking as Hizashi would be punished for it. Reluctantly, Hizashi acquiesced, and the prisoners were allowed to be taken to the doctor’s barracks for recovery. These prisoners were saved from death this day, however, according to my after-action report they would be nearly crippled by their punishment, making their remaining sentence a living hell.

Throughout all of this violent torture, Hinata had a front row seat to her tormentors being broken by her son. Her face was studiously blank, but a more observant guard reported the slightest of smiles on her face. Once upon a time, Hinata Hyūga was a kind and gentle girl who would have been horrified by Hizashi’s actions, but the prison camps have a way of beating such soft sentiment out of you. She knew full well that her son’s actions today ensured she would never be attacked by other prisoners again

After the prisoners were taken away, Hizashi took Hinata back to the Warden office to finish their tea. Both mother and son pretended like nothing had happened throughout their surreal talk, until it was time for Hizashi to leave and Hinata resumed her work in the quarries. Before he left, Hinata took the initiative and placed a loving kiss on Hizashi’s cheek. The first time she had ever done so in all the years he had visited. According to my reports, the young man had a dopey smile for days afterward.

I have yet to mention this, but all of Hinata’s sons are sociopaths, as witnessed in this report. This is partly our training, but also because of their breeding. The fathers of all of Hinata’s children are all violent men, so it makes sense for the spawn of such brutish guards to have grown to be cruel men. I believe Hinata knows this, and it is yet another blow to her broken psyche. Her daughters are whores for the state and her sons are monsters, and there was nothing she could do about it.

After this event, Hinata completed the twenty-fifth year of her incarceration without incident.

At this twenty-five year milestone, Hinata had become pregnant only four times instead of her customary one a year. Giving birth to three boys and one girl. Even the fertile Hyūga cow was reaching the end of her birthing years now that she was in her forties. With a three month sentence extension for rest after each pregnancy, Hinata’s sentence had been extended by fifteen months. Hinata’s remaining sentence after time served: Eleven years.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which details the inmates’ incarceration up to the thirtieth year of their sentence.


	8. Year Thirty

Thirty years have passed, and what a magnificent thirty years they’ve been. Our kunoichi would likely disagree, however. They have now served the entirety of their original sentence. Of course, they still had their extensions.

Year Thirty – Sakura Haruno:

Sakura Haruno was once one of the shining jewels of Konoha. A beautiful young woman who was intelligent, powerful, and had near infinite potential. However, after thirty years in a prison work camp Sakura had neither youth, strength nor beauty. Her intelligence had frittered away from decades of mind-numbing work and brain melting fucking, and what potential she had had was lost forever.

This is the punishment all suffer under if they commit crimes in our glorious nation, but for Sakura it was even worse. Because not only has she experienced everything good about herself slowly slip away in prison, she also had a front row seat to witness her own daughter suffer the same fate.

Now in her late forties, any spark of hope that Sakura had ever held onto had long since gone out. She had accepted that there would be no escape and no rescue. All she could do was to obey the rules, work hard, fuck well, and she would eventually be released. But working and fucking had become harder as of late. As she aged, she found that her chakra did not protect her as well as it once had. Grey hairs grizzled her pale-pink buzz cut, and crow’s feet lined the corners of her eyes. Her body had lost some of its tone, and her holes had become looser from constant use. She hadn’t been the prime whore in the camp for quite some time now and her ‘customers’ had become fewer and fewer as the years had gone by.

Thankfully for Sakura while her star was in decline Mebuki’s was on the rise. In her late twenties, Mebuki looked much like her mother did at that age. With a strong and supple body, bronzed golden by the sun and breasts that remain full and firm unlike her mother’s slowly sagging teats, Mebuki was the guard’s favourite whore. Now that Sakura was having trouble earning food from the guards, Mebuki always had more than enough to spare, and like a dutiful daughter she would always share with her mother.

I remember that it used to hurt Sakura terribly; watching her daughter fuck the same brutal men who had just fucked her into a stupor. Watching the girl that once had the same limitless potential as her mother be reduced to nothing but a criminal slave of the state. But as time went by the sight hurt Sakura less and less. She had become used to watching her daughter whore herself out in front of her, and that knowledge pushed her even further into despair.

Believe it or not, but Sakura was always something of an inspirational figure to me. No matter how many times she had been ground into the dirt, the little slut still managed to find some last vestige of inner strength. Though Sakura was sufficiently dehumanized to no longer care about herself, she still struggled on for Mebuki’s sake. And it seems that the former kunoichi had at least one last scheme up her sleeve.

As I’ve already marked down, Mebuki was a gorgeous specimen of the fairer sex, and in her late twenties was a real stunner. However, this was unusual. No matter how physically fit you are, over ten years in a labour camp tends to break you down, bowed from the strain of constant labour. The younger criminal just shouldn’t look as good as she does. The Warden, while appreciative that her beauty raised morale among the guards, grew suspicious. He ordered an investigation.

I’ve unintentionally denigrated the guards of our fine prison system several times throughout this report. While it is true that many of them were prison guards because of below-average scores on Ministry mental acuity tests, few of them were stupid. In fact, many of them were hired for the role because they scored well on tests that relied on observation and deduction. In short, if they weren’t so physically imposing to be noticeable many of them could have made rather good spies.

A pair of guards with keen eyes and ears were assigned to watch Sakura and Mebuki from afar and see if anything was amiss. At first, everything seemed normal, but after a day of observation it became clear that Sakura was up to some form of mischief.

It was normal for Sakura and Mebuki to work the same part of the quarry together. The assignments were meant to be random, but it was not uncommon for one of the things a prisoner whores herself out for was a preferred posting in day work. Sakura and Mebuki often double-teamed whatever guard was responsible for setting the postings so they could work side by side. Now here was the interesting part. In the first few years of Mebuki’s incarceration, Sakura was always lecturing her on the best ways to use her mining tools. Sometimes she even risked the whip to stop her own work and coach her daughter in the correct movements. Of course, Mebuki had long since mastered the correct way to use her tools like the peasant criminal she was. Therefore Sakura had long since stopped talking to her during the day shift to conserve her own energy. So why had Sakura started giving Mebuki lectures during mining work again?

It wasn’t just during the day shift either. Whenever the two little tarts were alone and not serving a guard, Sakura was whispering in Mebuki’s ear. Sakura may have been a skilled kunoichi three decades ago, but her skills have rusted to nothing since then. She probably believed she was being discreet, but nothing escaped the guards’ watchful eye. Still, while we _knew_ Sakura was up to something with Mebuki, we did not know what it was. That little tidbit took weeks to finally discover.

It took quite some time for the guards to ferret out Sakura’s little scheme, but when we did we baulked at her audacity. And here we thought we had finally tamed the bitch! Sakura had been teaching Mebuki how to use the latent chakra inside of her. That was how Mebuki had been able to preserve her looks while in the camp for as long as she has. It went beyond that, however. Mebuki was a quick study, as intelligent and as wilful as her mother used to be. After all that was how she was able to use chakra despite only having verbal instruction. She wasn’t just learning to use chakra to preserve her looks, however. Our eagle eyed guards noted Mebuki’s hand clenching into a fist when she thought she was alone, her hand glowing with chakra. There was no doubt in our minds that Mebuki was preparing to use her newly discovered chakra to attack the guards and escape while she believed us to be unaware of her new abilities.

This, obviously, could not stand. A lesson had to be taught. Thankfully an opportunity had arrived. Sakura had reached her scheduled re-branding time.

Just like fifteen years ago, we ordered Sakura to the Warden’s office. I did not bother to attend personally like last time, I have been promoted multiple times since then and was far too busy for that sort of thing. Still, the Warden of Women’s Work Camp #1 was meticulous in his records of the event, so I missed nothing. Sakura had had the steel in her ground out decades ago, and so she was like a timid little mouse when brought into the Warden’s office. Not once in all of her decades of imprisonment had she been summoned to the Warden’s office for a good reason. She had always suffered in this room, and so was gibbering in fear when faced before the Warden. The Sakura from thirty years ago wouldn’t have recognized this wreck of a criminal she had been reduced to.

Of course, she had good reason to be afraid. Sakura had most likely, and quite correctly, believed that we had discovered her dirty little secret of teaching Mebuki how to use chakra. However, the Warden did not drop that bomb straight away. Instead he went through the planned dull procedure of explaining that Sakura’s ID brands had faded beyond the acceptable amount and were to be renewed today. It was a tribute to how far Sakura had come that unlike the last time, she did not fight. She meekly accepted her fate. Indeed, she was likely relieved that we had not come to reveal that we had learned about her transgressions with Mebuki. This would change.

Sakura was quickly escorted to the branding chamber… just in time to watch her daughter scream as the branding master pressed the special chakra seal brand into her lower abdomen. The middle-aged inmate stood stock still in shock as her daughter wailed and cried from the pain of the burning metal pressing into her flesh. All Sakura could do was weep. Did she really think she could fool us? Stupid bitch.

For Mebuki it was defining moment. She had long remained quietly defiant, restrained only by her mother’s fear of punishment. Then, finally after years of wearing her mother down, she receives the instruction necessary to truly fight back against us. But as soon as she had a _taste_ of what Sakura once known, we had ripped it away. We quite literally sealed away her potential. The stubborn younger inmate finally, truly, broke.

Like her daughter, something deep inside Sakura broke too. Her faded green eyes were blank and devoid of any higher thought while we yanked the sobbing Mebuki from the branding restraints and replaced her with her own mother. She barely made a sound as the hot irons refreshed her fading ID brands. The older inmate had retreated into herself, her last hope scuppered. Only later, when both women were released and the weeping Mebuki clutched at her mother for comfort, did Sakura return to herself, wrapping her arms around her disconsolate daughter.

It was a lesson well learned, and the pain from their brands would remind them of the price of defiance for weeks to come.

Mebuki had been shattered by the experience, and the persistent burning pain in her abdomen from the brand weren’t helping matters. After three decades, Sakura had become hardened to pain, even pain like this, but tears were still shed when she thought no one else was looking. Just like fifteen years ago, Sakura desperately tried to whore herself out for burn cream (more for her daughter than for herself). However, her middle-aged body just wasn’t worth enough to the guards for them to shell out money for such expensive goods. She begged and pleaded like never before, and got a few pity fucks out of it, but little in the way of burn cream.

Eventually, thanks to the meagre amount Sakura was able to scrape together with her fading sexual charms, Mebuki was able to whore alongside her mother again. Business picked back up, for the two sluts, but the lesson had been well and truly taught. Mebuki never fought us again, and the mother and daughter pair have remained dutiful obedient prisoners up to the thirty year mark of this report.

As of the thirty year point of her sentence, Sakura gave birth one final time. A boy. It seems the prison had claimed the last of her fertile eggs too. With the final three months of convalescence added to her remaining sentence, Sakura’s final sentence after time served: Six years.

Of course being much younger Mebuki gave birth approximately once per year as normal for the last five years. Giving birth to two boys and three girls. Three months of forced convalescence for each pregnancy has extended her sentence by fifteen months. Mebuki’s total sentence after time served: Sixteen years.

Year Thirty – Ino Yamanka:

Normally after thirty years reports about inmates become boring monotonous stuff. This hasn’t been the case with our criminal kunoichi, and one could argue that Ino had the most interesting journey of all.

Once she was a spoiled princess and a powerful kunoichi, brought down by her own criminal folly into just another filthy criminal whore; whipped and fucked underneath the burning sun. However like the true survivor she was, Ino made the very best of her pitiful new lifestyle. She had quite literally fucked her way to the top. Going from the guards’ favourite bitch, to the guard captains’ top choice of pussy and then, finally, the Warden’s ‘wife’.

Yes, watching Ino push herself to the limits of her incredible sexual charms just so she could become the personal toy of a man she would have been repulsed by thirty years ago was always satisfying to read about. Still, I had to admit it was impressed just how far Ino had come during her time in our care. She had risen as high as prisoner could ever possibly reach and then some.

Too bad it could never last.

The Warden, Kantoku, was a hard man to please. Ino had been skirting a razor’s edge for years, changing her role from filthy whore, to cook, to maid, to quiet placid ‘wife’; whatever Kantoku wanted at the time. But while she had mastered all the roles the Warden demanded of her, she could not halt the march of time. Her body was showing its age. Albeit she looked as good as a woman in her late forties who did gruelling manual labour for thirteen hours a day could be, but even the vivacious Ino can’t hold back her body’s slow degeneration.

Ino looked… middle-aged, and the powders and creams she smeared on her face to make herself look younger could only do so much. The tight and firm gymnasts body she once had had been gone for decades and her once prized holes had become sloppy from constant use. In short, she was losing Kantoku’s attention.

Still, Ino was a feisty one, or at least as feisty as a woman who had spent thirty years in a prison camp could be. She raged against the inevitable. Anything she could do to keep Kantoku’s favour, she did. There was no deed too filthy, no task too demeaning. She begged the Warden for cook books to be a better cook, and for sexual instruction manuals that taught her positions that not even _she_ already knew. Kantoku was all too happy to provide Ino with whatever her little heart desired, so long as it all went back into pleasing him, and please him she did.

Kantoku’s reports about some of the sexual positions Ino experimented with didn’t even sound real to me. For instance I still have no idea what a retrograde wheelbarrow is. Plus even I took Kantoku’s report of Ino literally choking herself unconscious on his cock with a grain of salt. No matter.

Ino had been successful in keeping the Warden’s favour… for a time. Her sexual skills countered the lack of appeal in the slow degradation of her body, and Kantoku’s natural affection for his ‘wife’ was a contributing factor as well. However, no matter what Ino did there was one thing that she just couldn’t compensate for; she could not have any more children.

It didn’t matter how much baby batter Kantoku deposited in Ino’s middle-aged cunt, his seed just couldn’t take root. Decades of constant birthing had taken their toll. The prison had taken Ino’s youth, now it had taken her last fertile years. Only old age awaited her now, and both Ino and Kantoku knew it. The knowledge that he would have no more heirs from Ino infuriated the Warden.

Of course Ino had whelped the Warden many sons, all of whom promised to be as mentally and physically capable as any of the children born from the four kunoichi inmates. She had nothing to do with raising them, filthy criminal that she is, but her good genetic stock made those children prime candidates for high positions in the Ministry in the future. Kantoku understood this, and was grateful to his ‘wife’ of many years, but gratitude was not enough. The lack of children in the last five years drove a wedge between the two, a rift that Ino could not close no matter how whorish the criminal slut became in the bedroom.

The rift between the two was becoming more and more obvious to the other inmates and guards too. Many of the other prisoners had long been jealous of Ino’s position, and were eagerly awaiting the day where she fell from favour and was thrown back into the prisoner barracks. Ino knew it too, her haughty attitude would be repaid a hundredfold by the other prisoners and the desperation in her face only became more obvious. Guards reported her following Kantoku around almost like a lost puppy, begging for his affection at all times. However, this clingy behaviour only irritated the Warden.

This is where it gets interesting. If the readers of this report turned back to the first file in this document, you will remember what I noted regarding the chakra seals we placed on the kunoichi criminals. They were set to fade enough after thirty years that they would be able to use some chakra again as this was the set time for their release before their many extensions. Save for Sakura’s seal, which was refreshed for bad behaviour, the other three kunoichi would have started being able to access some of their chakra again…

At first, Ino hadn’t even noticed. Thirty years of being unable to use something tends to blot out one’s memory of it. But as her desperation grew, the more her eroded intelligence began to come back to the fore. Old knowledge worming its way back to the surface. Could her atrophied abilities with chakra succeed where her aging sexual charms had failed? It was time to find out.

It happened overnight. The increasingly distant Warden suddenly showered his little prison wife with all the gifts and affection she used to receive in her prime. She was the apple of his eye once again, and he doted on her in ways he never had before. Also, going by the sounds they made at night their sexual life was more active than it had been for years.

A few guard reports found this almost sappily romantic, two old lovers joining together again after a tiff. These idiots would later be reprimanded for lack of observational skills. Most of the other guard reports made it clear that this was highly suspicious activity. With the Warden seemingly compromised, and no one else with higher authority in the camp, the guard captains requested my intervention. Being far too busy, I dispatched a member of the security forces (one of inmate Hinata’s many sons) to investigate. What this agent found would spell Ino’s doom.

The reports made it clear; Ino had used her re-established connection with her chakra to cast something called a ‘genjutsu’ over the Warden. The security agent, Hinata’s fifth eldest son, Boruto (a tribute to her long lost lover) easily detected the use of chakra in influencing Kantoku’s mind with his inherited Byakugan. Without another word, agent Boruto burst into the Warden’s bedchamber while Ino was riding Kantoku’s dick, grabbed her by the neck and tossed her onto the ground. The guards proceeded to flog her then and there while Boruto freed Kantoku from the illusions Ino had put him under.

He was not happy.

Kantoku ordered the guards to cease their righteous beating of the uppity prisoner, declaring that he would handle Ino’s punishment himself. If Ino had not been stuck unconscious by the guards she would have begged for more flogging than what Kantoku would do to her next.

When Ino recovered it was to find herself bound within the special branding rooms beneath Women’s Work Camp #2. Her eyes welled with terrified tears, but there was resignation in her expression too. She had gambled and lost, now she would suffer through her branding as her just punishment. Of course, Kantoku wouldn’t be satisfied with just that.

The Warden watched dispassionately as the woman who had shared his bed for years screamed as her brands were renewed. She sobbed piteously, but that was not the end. Kantoku explained patiently to Ino that she could not be trusted with her rediscovered abilities with chakra, and that it would be sealed once again to prevent her harming anyone else. As comprehension dawned, Ino wailed in horror. At her advanced age, having the brand placed on her again would spell the end of her usage of chakra, for life. She would have either died or become a toothless old biddy by the time the seal had once again faded enough for chakra to be usable. The horrified wailing rose to a howl as the brand was pressed into her flesh. Her chakra was now gone, permanently.

But Kantoku was still not satisfied. Ino had humiliated him, and he would ensure she never forgot her folly. He had one last punishment in store, a punishment rarely meted out even in the harsh prison camps. Ino’s clitoris was pierced with a smooth metal disk. Its function was to cover it from human hands entirely, meaning that Ino would receive no sexual stimulation from it. From the woman’s end, stimulation of the clitoris is a large part of female pleasure, and now we’ve sealed that too. One of the few things that make prison life bearable for our inmates, the pleasure from their nightly fucking, has been viciously reduced for Ino.

As Ino sobbed and twitched in her restraints, Kantoku coldly explained that she would be released back to the prisoner barracks tonight. Any gifts that she had been given by the Warden over the years would be confiscated, as she never actually owned anything he gave her. The piercing covering her clit would remain until the end of her sentence, wherein the Warden would decide personally whether it would be removed or not depending on her good behaviour.

Ino was so terrified that she didn’t even beg for mercy, too afraid that if she said even a single word then Kantoku would order further punishment then and there. The famous chatterbox and seductress remained meek and silent as she was led out of her restraints and marched to the prisoner barracks. The pain of her brands and piercing forcing further tears out of her the whole time.

Without the Warden’s protection, the other prisoners descended upon Ino like a pack of wolves. The guards reported that Ino was forced to eat pussy and ass the entire night, and many, many nights afterward. In fact, up to the thirty year mark of this report Ino was still very much the bottom bitch in the camp, a far cry from the lofty position she once held.

As of the thirty year point of her sentence, Ino had birthed no more children. It appears that her fertile days are now well and truly over. With no more births and forced convalescences, Ino’s sentence had not been extended at all. Ino’s total remaining sentence after time served: Six years.

Year Thirty – Temari Sabaku:

You know, there are days where I still dream about Temari. I freely admit it. All of the kunoichi were absolute beauties in their prime, and I have partaken of the flesh of many high-priced courtesans, but none of them matched Temari in my personal opinion.

Sadly, time marches on, and the desert rose has wilted from thirty years hard work in the sun.

Temari Sabaku, without ever knowing it, had broken unofficial records as the longest reigning ‘top bitch’ in Women’s Work Camp #3. Through impressive physical strength, incredible willpower, and a gorgeous face and body that could screw guards all night long, Temari had ruled supreme. Even as her aging body started to steal away those advantages, her wily mind devised scheme after scheme which kept her on top. However, no one reigns forever.

I very rarely personally visit the Work Camps now, even with the assistance of the more modern and comfortable automobiles that are being released today. I’m not exactly a spring chicken myself anymore, after all, and the creature comforts of my home and office in the Capital appeal to me more than they did in my adventurous youth. However, I still tend to make time for Women’s Work Camp #3. Criminal whore she may be, Temari was still the mother of my favourite son, and I felt I owed it to the wench to personally visit every now and again. Not too often, of course, I don’t want her to feel spoiled.

I had always looked forward to seeing her. The sight of that naked big-titted bitch sweating in the sun as she broke rocks always filled me with desire. I cursed that I never took a picture of her in that state years ago, because the sight is not so stimulating now. Temari had aged, she had aged as gracefully as one could in her position, but she had aged nonetheless. The colour of Temari’s hair could be hard to discern when it was shaved down to her scalp, but it was clearly a uniform grey now. Her once prominent breasts had sagged, and her once toned body had thickened, the so called ‘middle-aged spread’. Most notably her physical strength had waned. She was still strong enough to do her work quota (work quotas were calculated based on multiple factors including age, so Temari’s had been lowered somewhat) but her days of brawling with women half her age were over.

Of course, as mentioned before Temari had physically and mentally groomed a bodyguard in her little prison bitch Kana. Unfortunately as the years marched on it was apparent that this plan had backfired on the former kunoichi spectacularly. Kana, who once spent hours lapping at her leader’s pussy, started wondering why she was taking orders from someone who was now older and weaker than her. Once Temari’s little submissive bitch, Kana had soon started demanding real power among the gang Temari had built, and the former kunoichi had little choice but to agree.

At first it was simple things. Temari delegating some decisions about the gang to Kana. But the concessions grew and grew until the two prisoners could be charitably considered co-leaders of the gang. Then as the years went by the balance of power clearly tilted in Kana’s favour. Temari’s title as leader of the gang had become most ceremonial, a hollow crown. All of the decision making power was in Kana’s hands.

However, Temari fought on. If she could no longer fight her way to the top, or scheme her way to power, then she would put up a front. For a while she was able to put on the pretence that she was still the leader of her little prison gang, even though by this point Kana was calling all the shots, but this all changed when Temari became pregnant for what would be the last time.

It had been around three years since Temari had last become pregnant. Everyone, including Temari herself had assumed that she had used up the last of her fertile years, but once again the desert kunoichi had surprised everyone. However, this would not good news for Temari.

I haven’t really addressed this issue in these documents, but our four kunoichi were fantastic breeders. Pregnancy and birthing is usually a messy, painful and potentially life-threatening affair. We have very good facilities for childbirth considering the state of the rest of the camp (the unborn children are not criminals, so are afforded all the care our State offers out citizens), so it is rare for prisoners to die, but it was still an unfortunate fact of life. However, our four kunoichi always had a very easy time of it. Their pregnancies and birthing were almost always quick, simple and painless. Our theory was that the ambient chakra in their bodies acted to reinforce their bodies during the process. It was also likely the reason our kunoichi were always ready to be bred again so quickly after they had another baby.

I’ve rambled on a bit there. To make a long story short, the four kunoichi inmates were famous for having uncomplicated births. But even with the aid of chakra, Temari’s last pregnancy would be very difficult for her indeed.

Our prison doctor could tell very quickly that Temari was carrying more than one child. Her belly had grown too large for a simple pregnancy. Her belly grew and grew until it became obvious to the prison doctor that Temari was carrying triplets! Once again Temari had surprised us. According to our statistics experts there is a 1% chance of a woman becoming pregnant with triplets, and our former kunoichi inmate had beaten the odds. But carrying three children at once proved to be quite the burden. At her age, and in the harsh conditions of the camp, Temari suffered. When she was finally ordered to rest for the last three months she already looked like she was going to pop.

The following three months were torturous for Temari. Having one child can be painful, but three all at once in her forties was agonizing. One of my personal visits to the camps had her begging me for help. I offered some choice delicacies and sweetmeats, but refused to give her any painkillers, doctors say they can harm children. Temari had long since learned not to be disappointed whenever she was told ‘no’, but wolfed down the food I offered. She thanked me with a nice sloppy blowjob. I must admit the sight of a heavily pregnant woman kneeling before me with my cock in her talented mouth was incredibly arousing. I still remember that moment fondly even years later.

Also, while she was languishing in the torment of her hard pregnancy, any last vestiges of power she claimed to have was usurped. Kana had recruited new members of the gang from fresh inmates while Temari was incapacitated. New gang members who had no idea who Temari even was. When the middle-aged inmate finally finished whelping the last children she would ever have (two boys and a girl) her gang was now completely under Kana’s control.

Temari’s return to normal prison life proved to be an ordeal. She had grown used to having a support network of trusted helpers, but many of the people she could have relied on have either died or finished their sentence and been released. Kana welcomed her back from her time away, not as a leader but as her personal bitch. Temari had seen the writing on the wall for some time now. She didn’t bother trying to resist. She just got on her knees and started licking the new Top Bitch’s slit. She stayed on her knees for hours, roughly the same amount of time a young Kana ate out Temari herself on their first night together all those years ago.

Since then, Temari has remained Kana’s personal pussy lapper up to the thirty year mark of this report. The gang that Temari had formed were now made up almost entirely of people recruited by Kana herself. Many of the new recruits couldn’t believe it when they were told Temari was the founder of the gang. Most of them just thought she was some old cow that Kana kept out of pity.

There were a few advantages to falling to the bottom of the heap, however. When Temari had her brands refreshed for the second time, Kana ordered her gang to whore themselves out for some burn cream for their leader’s bitch. The formerly indomitable Temari was reported to be pathetically grateful. Praising her former prison bitch for her kindness and mercy even while tonguing her asshole.

It was a shame how far Temari had fallen from just a decade ago, but that was the way of things in the Work Camp. Every day of toil here, something is stripped from you. Temari was a powerful, extremely intelligent, independent woman. What the camps do to some in a year, it took thirty for Temari. There was precious little of anything left of the woman who bore my child some twenty years ago. Just a broken old woman who munched the carpet of stronger women for whatever scraps they offered her. A pity. Still, I wonder if there is anything left of the mighty woman that could still be shaved away in her remaining time here…

At the thirty year mark of her sentence, as mentioned in this report Temari gave birth one final time to triplets. We didn’t give her extra time for convalescence though, just the standard three months. Temari’s sentence after time served: Six years.

Year Thirty– Hinata Hyūga:

Hinata Hyūga has for a long time been considered a treasure of the Land of Quarries. The body and beauty she had in her youth made her the object of fantasy for every man she had ever lain with in the camp. Her hard work in the quarries over the last three decades has resulted in her chipping out hundreds of tonnes of raw mineral rock from our quarries. A massive return from the three tonnes she tried to steal all those decades ago. Most importantly her womb had provided our nation with just over two dozen skilled operatives who have over the years worked to increase the prosperity of our nation.

Thirty years is a long time to be in the same place. Indeed, Hinata has spent the greater majority of her life in Women’s Work Camp #4, she had been an inmate far longer than she had ever been a free woman. Over this time our little Hyūga cow had long since stopped talking or even thinking about her noble heritage. I harbour doubts she would even _remember_ she was a noblewoman if the other prisoners and guards had not taunted her with the fact every now and again.

Hinata’s mental state has suffered quite badly under the strain of prison life. She was once a shy, meek little girl, and prison does not treat such people well. The years had hardened her, of course, even going as far as developing a harsher split personality after a mental break, but deep down she had always been rather fragile.

Her body was similarly ravaged. Thirty years of hard labour under the unforgiving sun and the equally unforgiving lash, along with nightly rough fucking with multiple brutish partners has taken its toll on Hinata’s body. Her once titanic tits had rather noticeably sagged, and they no longer dribbled milk. Her muscular stomach had developed a slight paunch with middle age, her thighs had become flabby, made worse from various whipping scars, and there was far more silver in her hair than black. Naturally, the degradation of her sexual charms had made it harder for Hinata to attract the attention of the guards, who preferred the ‘fresh meat’ of younger prisoners. This in turn made it harder for her to get the nutrients she needed to survive. The lessening of her diet became obvious over the years, and Hinata became thinner in the arms. Hinata added a few fresh whipping scars to her sagging bottom in her thirtieth year for her food deprived laziness.

Thankfully for Hinata she had a few regular customers. There were several guards who had been assigned to the camp around the same time Hinata was originally imprisoned. These old veterans were… sentimental toward the aging slut. They remembered vividly the utterly fantastic body the Hyūga cow had in her prime. Whenever they had the opportunity they would fondly recount how her pendulous breasts would squirt out streams of milk whenever she came from another session of brutal fucking. Many of the younger guards, most of whom weren’t even _born_ when Hinata was imprisoned, would glare enviously at their elders for being able to fuck such a Madonna in her prime.

This sense of sentimentality and nostalgia was one of the two factors that saved Hinata’s life as her lengthy prison sentence reached its third decade. Many of the old guards were happy to fuck her ‘for old time’s sake’ and gifted her with food and vitamins (even a bar of chocolate once!) seemingly out of a genuine desire to safeguard her wellbeing. Quite a dichotomy considering these were the same men who brutalized her and fucked her into a stupor every day and night of her life, but human nature is a strange thing.

Still, that was only the first reason Hinata had survived. The second was because she was actually rarely lashed, even when she slowed down during work. This was because of her sons. It’s a credit to Hinata’s natural talent at motherhood that the vast majority of her sons view her with great favour, even love. This is despite the fact that she had not raised them and only socialized with a small group of them at a time roughly every six months. There were a few of her male spawn who did not care for her, chiefly her eldest Hayato, but for the most part they adored her with almost puppy-like affection.

It helps to have children in high places, even when one is a lowly criminal whore. The guards made the mistake of lashing Hinata in front of one of her sons only once. While the boys had been raised to accept that their mother deserved her punishment, knowing it and seeing it are two different things. The guard that did the lashing disappeared without a trace that very night. As there was no evidence of any wrongdoing, the investigation was dropped, but the guards learned to be very… cautious of when they chose to use corporal punishment on Hinata afterwards.

This actually became an issue of great contention with the Warden of Women’s Work Camp #4. A prisoner who guards feared to punish? Even if Hinata was a well behaved prisoner; that would not do. Thankfully for the Warden, there were other ways to punish a prisoner besides physical harm. Especially in Hinata’s case.

While Hinata’s relationship with her sons gave her many benefits, her relationship with her daughters caused her great pain. Himawari’s ‘training’ under Hinata was considered a massive success, so every daughter Hinata had whelped was sent to the Work Camp to receive their mother’s tutelage in the arts of pleasing a man when they turned eighteen. Hinata put a brave face on it, and always smiled and doted on each of her daughters even as she was demonstrating the best way to deep-throat a cock or take it up the ass.

Like all things, Hinata grew numb to this unique punishment. Surprisingly optimistic, she seemed pleased just to spend time with her daughters, even if she was teaching them how to be just as depraved a whore as she was. It _was_ awkward with her third and fourth daughters, Hitomi and Hanabi, however. Hinata bitterly regretted naming them after her mother and sister. Admittedly she had no idea she would be training them to be sluts later on in life.

Every one of Hinata’s daughters who had received her ‘training’ have become valuable spies for our glorious nation. Red light districts, exclusive brothels, decadent daimyo’s courts… over the years we’ve seeded Hinata’s slutty daughters in these locations. Fucking and sucking whoever they needed to seduce to provide us with valuable information and blackmail. Countless trade deals and political plays have been resolved in our favour because of the loose lips of diplomats, nobles and politicians who have been rode to half-a-dozen orgasms by our specialist Hyūga whores.

Eventually after roughly a decade serving outside our borders, each of Hinata’s daughters will be recalled to serve in a different capacity. Like their mother before them they will become the brood mothers of a new generation of Hyūga. This was already the case with Himawari by the time this report was written. Indeed, I actually have designs to have my son Shukra be the first to breed her. If the result of the union is a boy, then I will have a powerful grandson to potentially succeed my household after Shukra. If it is a girl… then at least I will have someone to offer in a marriage contract with another household in the capital. Unlike Hinata, Himawari was perfectly content with her fate from the beginning, having been conditioned for it since birth.

Yes, Hinata has served us well and has unintentionally reaped the benefits because of it. Her infrequent lashings thanks to her son’s protection were the stuff of rumours among the prisoners. Even the act of preparing her daughters to become whores seem to have less of an impact on Hinata as the Warden would like. Hinata’s life in the prison was far from comfortable, but the Warden was not satisfied. He felt that the Hyūga inmate had grown soft and needed a new punishment. Something that would keep her in line for the rest of her sentence. After consulting me, he decided to try something rather original… a rather cruel prank.

As Hinata reached her thirtieth year in the work camp, she was called to the Warden’s office. As mentioned before, being called into the office is _never_ a good thing. Hinata submissively shuffled into the office, her dulled lavender eyes staring at her feet. Some of the worst moments in her harsh life had happened in this room, and she didn’t expect today to be any different. The fear in her expression and posture was obvious to see, but there was resignation too. Whatever inner fire she possessed was extinguished decades ago. No matter what cruelties were planned Hinata could only accept whatever the Warden had in store for her.

Fully expecting the worst… Hinata was absolutely floored when the Warden announced that she had served her sentence and was free to go.

Stunned by the news, Hinata could only drop to her knees in shock. A beatific smile on her face as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. She started babbling words of gratitude, thanking the Warden for his kindness over and over again. All the while the Warden kept speaking, reading from his ledger as if he was reading a weather report. A little quote from that conversation is just below (a full transcript can be found in the appendix of this document).

“Yes, yes. After serving your thirty years in our glorious rehabilitation centre you are now free… oh. Oh I’m terribly sorry, Inmate. Someone from the accounting department must have passed me the wrong information. This report was only for your initial sentencing, and completely ignored your six year extension for being unable to work. Terribly sorry, we’ll revisit this conversation six years from now. Until then, back to the quarries you go.”

The Warden couldn’t have had a better reaction if he hit her in the face. Freedom was dangled right in front of her, and then snatched away like a toy taken from a child. Broken as she was, all Hinata could do was sob. Suddenly it was all too much, like a wild thing possessed she prostrated herself fully on the ground. She pressed her forehead and her sagging tits into the threadbare carpet. She begged for mercy. Gibbering in fear like a lunatic, promising that she had learned her lesson, that she was rehabilitated, that she was a good girl now.

The Warden was unmoved by her pleas. Indeed, as she was busy begging while scrabbling on the floor, the Hyūga bitch missed the small smile on his face. His little prank was as successful as he had hoped. Still, a joke can wear thin. After a few minutes of her bleating the Warden began to grow bored. At a gesture, a guard kicked her in her whip scarred buttocks, shutting the stupid prisoner up.

Now that she was finally silent, the Warden also noted that since her brands had also reached their regulation fading point they would be renewed today. To celebrate her thirtieth anniversary as an inmate of this work camp. This only renewed her fearful gibbering until a guard picked her up by the hair (it was around two weeks before shearing day) and slapped her silly. After that little chastisement from the guards she made nary a peep when they dragged her to the branding chamber. Such an obedient prisoner. She was silent all way up until the first branding iron pressed into her flesh. Her wails split the air and could probably be heard for miles.

Poor Hinata. Her sons couldn’t protect her from everything. Indeed, this little prank wouldn’t have even been thought of if they hadn’t been trying to look out for her. Even if they _had_ found out, they would have been forced to accept it was a clerical error, not an attempt to cause yet more psychological damage to the middle-aged criminal tart. Still, now that Hinata had been suitable chastened, she continued her duties as a model prisoner up until the end point of this particular report.

At the thirty year mark of her sentence, Hinata has not given birth in the last five years. It appears that the Hyūga broodmare is now well and truly used up. Thankfully several of her daughters are now in a position to take over her roll in that regard. With no more births and subsequent three month convalescences, Hinata’s sentence had not been extended at all. Hinata’s total remaining sentence after time served: Six years.

Please turn to the next file in the document, which reviews the inmates up to their thirty-sixth year of incarceration. This next file shall also include an afterword which will conclude the main body of the document.


	9. Year Thirty-Six

Thirty-six years have passed. Our former kunoichi have completed their sentence of thirty-six years of brutal, harsh and humiliating service to our glorious nation. Amazingly, all four of our wayward prisoners are still alive! Not many women could claim to have spent thirty-six years in a prison camp in the Land of Quarries, and lived to see their rehabilitation complete. But now it was over. By our justice system’s laws they have been deemed fully rehabilitated and were now allowed to go free. This report shall conclude my dealings with the four kunoichi, how their discharges were handled, and a little of what happened after.

Year Thirty-Six – Sakura Haruno:

For Sakura, her life for the past three and a half decades was an inescapable nightmare. She had been brutalized day and night. Forced to work thirteen hour shifts in a quarry under the burning sun and the unforgiving gaze of the guards. Then being fucked by the same guards that had lashed her in the day, pleasing them with decades of sexual practice until they deigned to pay her with extra rations of food. Admittedly there was less fucking for Sakura now that she was in her early fifties and was a less attractive whore for the guards. But the humiliation never went away whether it was a group of guards or just one.

However, good or bad, all things come to an end. Sakura’s sentence was over, and it was time to let her know the good news. Since these four kunoichi had been involved in such a large part of my life, I elected to be there in person when they were told by their respective Wardens. Yes, Sakura’s and the other three kunoichi’s release dates would be delayed a few days because of this decision, but what’s a few days after thirty-six years?

After I had arrived and had a sumptuous breakfast with the Warden, Sakura was escorted into the office. It had been some time since I saw her in person, and the changes in her appearance were obvious. Sakura was old enough to be considered elderly among the other prisoners. With greying hair, sagging tits and crow’s feet around the eyes. Her skin permanently darkened by constant sun exposure, her eyes completely devoid of the bright fire that once burned within. A far cry from the defiant young woman that once resisted us so fiercely.

She stared at us with empty eyes, only the trembling in her shoulder’s hinting at the fear she must have felt at seeing the Warden and I, arguably her greatest tormentors. We decide to leave Sakura in suspense for a few moments, as we pretend to check through some records. But as soon as her terror had reached its peak we looked up and abruptly told the former kunoichi that she had served her sentence and was free to go. A guard then held out a box to Sakura, containing the clothes that were stripped from her so long ago.

It took a while for the words to sink in. The numb shock on her face slowly giving way to a small tremulous smile. For the first time in over thirty years the tears that ran down her face were not of pain or fear, but pure happiness. She reached out to take the proffered box… but hesitated. Her smile faded…

The Warden’s windows are normally barred and locked, but this time one of them was fully open, allowing Sakura a full view of the quarry. There, not far away, she could see her daughter Mebuki, now in her thirties, sweating away while swinging a pickaxe. Sakura was openly frowning now, conflict brewing inside of her. She was free! Free at last! But Mebuki had been as fertile as her mother had been, and multiple pregnancies in the last six years had extended her sentence. Sakura’s sentence was served, but Mebuki still had eleven years and six months…

 

I remember seeing the gears turn in Sakura’s head. Could she abandon her daughter to this hellish place and leave on her own? What would she be going back to? After thirty-six years her parents and teacher had certainly passed away by now. Surely her friends were still alive, and she could ask them to free her daughter when she returned to Konoha… but would they? As far as she knew they left her to rot in this work camp for decades, why would they help her now?

Sakura was shaking. The conflict inside her growing to an almost frenzied panic. For a moment, it looked like she would reach out and snatch the box of clothing and run for the gate as fast as she could, but then her hands dropped to her sides.

In this nightmarish life, she only had Mebuki. She couldn’t abandon her. With a tortured look upon her face, Sakura did the bravest and most selfless thing I had ever seen. She asked if she could stay in the prison until Mebuki’s sentence was complete.

We were floored. This was not what we were expecting. As some may have guessed, the Warden deliberately left a window open on purpose, and arranged for Mebuki to be working near it. However, it was only meant to be one last jab at a soon to be free inmate. Neither of us actually expected Sakura to _volunteer_ because of it.

The Warden looked to me for guidance. This was, as you can imagine, completely unprecedented. _No one_ wanted to stay after their designated rehabilitation period was over. This wasn’t a holiday camp, but a prison! No one should want to _stay_. But it appeared we underestimated the love of a mother for her daughter.

I motioned for Sakura to sit in the corner while I discussed the matter with the Warden. Together we hashed out the particulars of this unforeseen event. Technically as of today, Sakura was no longer an inmate, but a rehabilitated member of society. By our laws she no longer belonged in the Work Camps. However, as a free woman, she could choose where to go - and if she _chose_ to stay in the prison, it would be her right.

After some further discussion, we gave Sakura our verdict. Since she was insane enough to want to stay, then she could stay, but there would be conditions which would be written into a ‘work contract’. Sakura would be designated as a ‘volunteer worker’. She would continue to work in the quarries, but for the lowest possible work quota and for less hours, she could also freely pick where in the quarry she worked. However, she would still be punished for failing to meet the designated quota. As she was not a prisoner, she would be given a small fee for her work, with the cost of her gruel, sleeping pallet, showers, and doctor’s visits deducted from that fee. She would not be provided more food, but could choose to serve the guards like she used to or pay them with her meagre earnings. To prevent jealousy among the prisoners, she would have continue to wear the regulation prison uniform, namely the collar, boots and work belt, with nothing else. Her clothing would be confiscated again until her ‘work contract’ expired. The expiration date of the contract was set for the date of Mebuki’s release date, but we agreed that the date could be renegotiated whenever Sakura chose.

It was a terrible deal, and I almost hoped Sakura would change her mind and reject it, but she steeled her resolve and agreed to our offer. She even called it ‘generous’. Though I suppose this deal was still better than the last thirty-six years of her life so far. She stared longingly at the box of clothing for a while. Then she turned away from the last evidence and temptation of her old life and asked to return to work.

Still somewhat stunned by Sakura’s bravery (or insanity), we let her go. We watched her run to embrace her daughter, before falling alongside her and resuming the same work she had been doing for decades. I felt torn by Sakura’s decision. It was the ultimate act of love of a mother for her child, but it was also stupid. I’m not sure Sakura could even _survive_ another eleven years here, even with the lowered work quotas and hours. Now that she was rehabilitated in the eyes of the state she… didn’t deserve it. But her choice was made, and I will respect that choice.

The Warden, however, took a completely different view to the matter. After his shock had faded, he began to muse about new policies that could be implemented in the future. He was impressed by Sakura’s decision to stay for her daughter, but it was less admiring and more appreciative of the extra labour his camp would receive from inmates volunteering to stay past their sentence. Quietly, he asked if Mebuki would do the same thing for _her_ daughter.

Sarada Haruno, Mebuki’s eldest daughter and Sakura’s granddaughter, was a known political agitator. Entering the junior ministry and advocating for a new-fangled idea called ‘democracy’ while at the same time protesting the state of our beloved prison system. Young Sarada had been rocking the boat with her radical ideas, and upsetting many senior Ministers. There were already whispers in the Courts to rule her as a political agitator, which would mandate a stay in the Work Camps… perhaps the same prison camp her mother and grandmother reside.

I promised to pass the Warden’s idea along. While I had my doubts, I was also keenly interested to see if Mebuki would show the same strength of spirit as Sakura.

So, to round off this thirty-six year report, Sakura has chosen to stay in Women’s Work Camp #1 until her daughter’s sentence was completed. At the time this report was filed she was still there.

As mentioned earlier, Mebuki had given birth six times in the last six years. Four boys and two girls. She had three months convalesce for each child, which extended her sentence. Mebuki’s current sentence after time served: Eleven years and six months.

Year Thirty-Six – Ino Yamanka:

Ino’s final six years in Women’s Work Camp #2 were the most hellish she had experienced in all of her time here. Indeed, by that margin they were also the most horrible six years of her entire life. After decades of fucking and sucking her way to the top, her fall from grace to the very bottom broke Ino Yamanaka.

By all reports Ino was a flirty little minx before she was imprisoned, and while the Work Camp tended to grind away an inmate’s personality, that natural sauciness had always remained. Ino had made a reputation as a promiscuous slut, a mistress of her sleeping pallet, who guards would give baskets of food to feel her juicy cunt squeeze down on their member. Like the spoiled princess she used to be, Ino had expensive tastes, even in prison. Her almost supernatural talent at sex allowed her to indulge in her vices even while imprisoned in one of the harshest places on the continent. Her body, beauty, and libido had driven her to the bed of the Warden himself. But then the stupid slut ruined it for herself.

We have covered Ino’s fall from grace in the last report, but we only touched on what happened to her immediately afterward. After her loss of ‘status’, Ino was promptly ejected from the Warden’s bedroom back to a regulation sleeping pallet in the prisoner barracks. Both the prisoners and the guards had long been jealous of the luxuries she enjoyed while being Warden Kantoku’s personal whore, and were eager for payback.

Any fighting skill Ino once possessed had atrophied to almost nothing. Unlike her fellow kunoichi she had rarely got her hands dirty by fighting jealous prisoners herself. Her preferred method was to seduce a guard to help her instead. She had paid for it now, however. Now an old woman, her beauty had greatly faded and her once fantastic body had thickened and sagged. The guards were not tempted by her the same way they used to. Besides, they all thought she was an uppity bitch who grew too good for her non-existent panties anyway, and instead of being swayed to help her they actively participated in her debasement.

As soon as the work shift was over, Ino would be dragged by the prisoners back to the barracks to serve them. The loose little bitch almost drowned in pussy juices every night, and I doubt she would ever forget the taste of ass for the rest of her miserable life. The guards had their fun as well, of course. Ino’s beauty may have faded, but many guards liked to fuck her anyways simply because they knew Ino could no longer enjoy it.

The piercing in her clit prevented Ino from stimulating this most sensitive part of her pussy. It is estimated that there are more nerve endings going through the clitoris than anywhere else. Almost 80% as much as the next most sensitive part of the body. Simply put, with her clit unable to receive any stimulation, Ino rarely had an orgasm anymore from sex. The guards merely rammed their cocks into Ino’s sloppy holes, spent their seed and left without ever getting the prisoner off in return. It was almost enough to drive her mad.

Indeed, Ino became so sexually frustrated she temporarily overcame her fear of Kantoku and begged him to remove the piercing. The Warden then unequivocally stated that if Ino ever brought up this subject again before her release then he would have her clit removed entirely. Wisely, Ino never asked again.

Lashed by guards during heavy labour under the hot sun, beaten and abused by prisoners at night, followed by rough fucking with the guards for scraps of food. This was the fate of the ‘bottom bitch’ in our Work Camps. However, being barely able to orgasm was the finisher. The only thing a prisoner could look forward to was an orgasm, the only pleasure they could count on. And Ino had been ruthlessly cut off from this only saving grace for six years.

I hadn’t seen Ino in person for the entire time she had been pierced, now that she was being released I was curious to see what she would be like.

On the day of Ino’s release, I sat beside Kantoku as she was marched into his office. Ino had hardly been in this room since she was thrown out by the Warden. She had occasionally been fucked by Kantoku for ‘nostalgia’ (one of the few men in the camp skilful enough to still give Ino an orgasm in her diminished state), but never in his bedchambers. She hobbled in gingerly now, appearing afraid of her own shadow. I remarked upon the change in her.

Gone was the confident wench who could wrap any man around her finger. Before me was a woman in her early fifties, who stood with her shoulders hunched and her arms hugging herself. Her hair, a few inches long as shearing day was some time ago, had completely turned white from age and bleaching by the sun. She had been burned brown by the sun and her once prestigious breasts had sagged from age and years without a support bra. Her once tight abdomen had grown a paunch from middle age and her cheeks were hollow and sunken from a diet of gruel and scraps thrown to her by the guards. A sex goddess corrupted and ruined.

Seeing such a pitiful display, it felt good to announce to Ino that she had served her time and was free to leave. Suddenly there was life in those dead-fish eyes. She gasps in pleasure and a flush rises in her cheeks in delight. For a split second the beauty she once possessed seem to bloom before us. Then she ruined it by crying. She wept in front of us like a child, thanking us constantly between sobs.

Kantoku, however, was still a little bitter from Ino’s manipulations. He allowed Ino a few moments to cry in joy, before mentioning that he has ruled that while she would be released, the piercing in her clit would stay. The sudden shift from happiness to horror was a sight to remember. With a speed that belied her age, Ino fell to the floor so fast she probably gave her tits carpet burn. She begged the Warden to spare her this one final punishment. Pleaded with him to remember their time together as a good thing. About how many sons she bore him, about all of the times she worshiped him like the god he was.

The Warden let Ino wail like the frail woman she was, before announcing he was just joking, the piercing would come out too… so long as she cleaned his cock one last time before she left. Ino’s joy returned to her face a thousand fold. With the ease of practice, Ino crawled over to Kantoku, undid his fly with her mouth and went to work. A few practiced licks brought Kantoku to hardness, she then took the whole length in her whole mouth in one go. She deep throated him like a champion, and it wasn’t long before he spilled his seed down her gullet.

Kantoku seemed rather pleased with himself, and he should be. It’s likely that he would be the last man in the Land of Quarries to receive a blowjob from the once delectable Ino. I briefly considered asking for one myself, but I decided to let Kantoku’s final victory over the prisoner be wholly personal.

After that the final release orders and formalities were put through. An expert was on hand to remove Ino’s clit piercing, granting her blessed relief. Her slave collar was struck off and her boots and work belt were handed back to us. They never belonged to her after all and within a month would be worn by a new prisoner. Then, after thirty-six years, Ino pulled on the clothes that were confiscated from her when she was first imprisoned. Honestly, she looked rather ridiculous. Her clothing was designed to flatter the figure of a woman in her late teens, but on a woman in her fifties Ino just looked like a desperate cougar past her prime. Still, she seemed happy enough to be wearing proper clothes again.

Ino would normally have to wait for a pickup vehicle to take her back to civilization. But I gallantly agreed to transport her to the border myself in my personal automobile. She gratefully accepted. Within hours I had deposited the rehabilitated criminal scum out of our country, and good riddance.

Now, unlike Sakura, Ino actually processed her release. So I have included reports detailing Ino’s experiences when she returned to her homeland that we recovered from dispatches and our espionage efforts.

To be completely honest, my superiors at the time were extremely concerned. Konoha had believed Ino and her kunoichi compatriots to be dead, and had dropped the issue quickly after a minor search because they were illegally entering our country to begin with. Now however, living breathing proof stumbled on their doorstep that their previous beliefs were false. Faced with the truth that their precious kunoichi were actually prisoners in our ‘hellish’ prison system, we prepared for trouble.

A few members of the inner council advocated Ino’s secret termination to prevent reprisals from Konoha, but we ruled against it. We are not barbarians. Ino had served her time and was now rehabilitated and free. That was it.

Thankfully, luck and time was on our side. The previous three administrations of Konoha would have been furious, they would have advocated sanctions, perhaps even war. But the Work Camps weren’t in a timeless bubble/ Thirty-six years have passed in Konoha too, and the ninja village has seen three Hokage’s come and go since then. The Sixth Hokage Kakashi, the Seventh Hokage Naruto and the Eighth Hokage Konohamaru. All three men knew Ino personally and would have pushed hard to punish us despite the fact that we were in our full legal right to punish Ino under our laws. But all three men were dead.

Naruto Uzumaki was the architect of years of peace among the ninja world, but all that came crashing down during what is known in our records as ‘the Kawaki incident.’ Not much is known, but a rogue ninja known only as Kawaki fought and killed Naruto Uzumaki in battle. Naruto’s death triggered a small but deadly conflict known as the ‘Fifth Shinobi War’. While the war was short lived, many high profile individuals from the heroic generation Ino was part of died in it. Including the Sixth and Eighth Hokages.

Following this bloody conflict, the ninja villages pushed even harder for peace this time, lobbying for more peaceful leaders. Since the last three Hokages were men of forceful personalities, a more soft-spoken person was selected as the ninth Hokage, incredibly skilled but not overwhelmingly powerful. This new Hokage was a woman born from merchants and had no personal connection to the imprisoned Kunoichi whatsoever as she was from a much younger generation. When Ino’s condition was revealed after time recovering in their hospitals, the new Hokage lobbied for economic sanctions and put out a condemnation, but that was all. No enemy shinobi were sent. No one wanted to trigger another war.

While Ino received much needed care for the various abuses she received whilst in our Work Camp they were unable to remove the chakra sealing brand without potentially killing her. Ino would likely go the rest of her natural life being unable to use chakra again, but that was not the only bad news she received upon her return. As Ino had been declared dead, all of her financial assets had been either seized by the bank or absorbed by the Yamanaka clan. Essentially, she was penniless.

Ino was set to inherit a modest fortune after ascending to the rank of clan head. However, when she was believed to be dead a different branch of the family took on that role and fortune. Needless to say the current Yamanaka head had no intention of letting this penniless, chakra-less, old woman from usurping the position that would have been rightfully hers. Ino was taken in to live in the Yamanka clan compound, and was cared for by servants. But her personal bank accounts have not been restored to her, and she is currently living off of the mercy of the clan that she once would have headed. Well, at least Ino was free, so it’s not all bad news.

Year Thirty-Six – Temari Sabaku:

Ah, Temari. Easily my personal favourite among the four kunoichi prisoners. The one who adapted the best to prison life, being in many ways a model prisoner. But while Sakura was rebellious, and Ino was seductive, Temari was _ambitious_. She had gathered together a gang that allowed her to rule the roost for years. However it had all come crashing down, her own hubris getting the better of her as the gang she formed outgrew her.

The last six years have been a bit of a mixed bag for Temari. As she aged the former kunoichi found herself having no choice but to throw herself under the protection of her old prison-bitch-turned gang leader Kana. There Temari served Kana in whatever capacity she wished, mostly sexually, but she fetched and carried for her too. The strong leader reduced to a bottom-feeder. However, Kana’s original sentence was always shorter than Temari’s and by the thirty-second year of Temari’s sentence Kana was released.

Without Kana’s protection, Temari was at the mercy of the gang she had founded. None of these members were people she recruited herself, and had little sentiment for the aging prisoner. For a year, Temari was passed around the gang members like a party favour, serving each member slavishly while at the same time fucking the guards as normal. This was probably the lowest Temari was forced to sink, but for the last three years of her sentence she was able to finally turn things around somewhat.

Sakura and Ino had their chakra sealing brands refreshed for their stupid and rebellious behaviour. Temari, in contrast, had been well behaved, and her chakra suppressing seal had faded naturally as we promised would happen. Of course, we overstated how much chakra the kunoichi would ever be able to actually _use_ again, but after decades without even a trickle of chakra was like water in the desert to Temari. Like the clever bitch she was, the former gang leader began ruthlessly applying the new weapon in her arsenal.

Temari certainly wasn’t stupid. She knew full well that she could never use her diminished chakra to escape. She wouldn’t have been able to do that if she were in her prime after all. No, Temari used it to improve her circumstances. She forced her chakra to stimulate her body once again. Suddenly Temari began to look a little younger, her body became stronger, firmer. The gang members who once abused her found that the whimpering dog beneath their feet had rediscovered her teeth. While she never quite became the leader of the gang again, anyone who tried to make her their bitch found themselves missing a few teeth when Temari was done with them. Her body’s improvement was also noticed by the guards, and Temari had proper customers for the first time in years without having to rely on the gang. The guards found that Temari’s passion had not dulled with age and soon Temari had some proper food to supplement her gruel.

And that was Temari’s circumstances for the last three years of her imprisonment. All in all I think she’s done better than most prisoners. Indeed, I would go as far as to say she had handled her thirty-six years of rehabilitation better than anyone else who has been sentenced for that amount of time. But now her time was up, and it was time to let the now reformed convict go.

As with the other kunoichi, I made a point of being there personally when they were told the good news. This was especially poignant with Temari. She was my favourite after all. When she was marched into the Warden’s office by the guards, I observed how her body had been shaped by the prison’s attentions and her own chakra.

Unlike the others, Temari held her head high, refusing to cower before us. Only the slight trembling of her lower lip revealed just how scared she was. Even after thirty-six years of being ground down into a craven slut, the former kunoichi could still pretend to be brave, remarkable. Her body still showed signs of degeneration from years of hard labour. Her once firm stomach had developed a paunch, and her breasts had sagged noticeably. The wrinkles around her eyes were obvious and her once golden hair was now a uniform grizzled grey. Still, the use of her rediscovered chakra was obvious in other ways. Her arms still looked strong, and her legs were built like tree-trunks, and while her breasts had sagged they still looked rather full compared to Sakura and Ino’s relatively empty paps.

The façade of dignity Temari held onto completely cracked when we revealed that she had completed her sentence and was deemed rehabilitated. The combination of shock, relief and pure joy on her face was a sight to behold. Tears filled her eyes as I presented her with the box of confiscated clothing myself. She was so overcome with emotion that she snatched the box from my fingers and kissed me full on the mouth in gratitude. I briefly considered seeing how far I could push this gratitude, but decided not to spoil the moment. She was a free woman now, there was no need to heap on any more torment.

As procedure her work belt and boots were returned to us and her slave collar was removed. It was interesting seeing the contrast of her paler skin around the neck where the collar used to be compared to the rest of Temari’s burnt brown skin. Having been naked for over thirty years, Temari thought nothing about her nakedness as she donned or old clothing. Her clothing was more modest than Ino’s selection. While it was obvious the clothes were designed for a much younger woman, Temari was able to pull it off without looking like a needy cougar. Yes the clothes smelt like mothballs, but that was to be expected, Temari certainly wasn’t complaining.

I drove her to the border myself, and even gallantly paid for transport back to her home village. It was the least I could do for the mother of my favourite son. While she may be a free woman now, the habits of a grateful slave were hard to break. Temari couldn’t resist ‘thanking’ me for my help in the border fort’s bathrooms. It was just a quickie, but my goodness was it still some of the best sex I ever had. Temari’s holes were definitely much looser after decades of nightly fucking, but her experience more than made up for it. Thankfully I was very wealthy after decades of service in the Ministry, and was able to pay all the fines I received for ‘noise complaints’.

I was sorry to see her go, but it wouldn’t be the last time I encountered Temari.

As a follow-up I kept track of Temari when she returned to her home village of Suna. Once again my superiors were nervous. Konoha’s protests about the state of their kunoichi, while loud, were ultimately ineffective. Would Suna be the same? Or would our Security Forces have to fend off a potential retaliatory invasion? Our military was on high alert, but we needn’t have bothered.

Temari did not receive the warm welcome she had hoped for. When she was first imprisoned, her brother was the Kazekage; a powerful man who loved his sister dearly. But decades had passed since then. The ‘Fifth Shinobi War’ that I mentioned earlier was a bloody conflict. The Fifth Kazekage Gaara perished in the fighting, as did his chief advisor and Temari’s other brother Kankurō. Temari’s long awaited reunion with her brothers would never happen.

Gaara had adopted a successor, Shinki, who became the Sixth Kazekage, but he had since retired due to long term injuries from the aforementioned war. Suna was currently ruled by a council of elders until a new Kazekage was appointed, and none of these elders were particularly sympathetic to Temari’s plight. Apparently quite a few of these elders were Temari’s rivals when she was still an active kunoichi, so they took some vindictive pleasure in seeing an old rival brought so low. Needless to say, instead of loud but ineffectual protests like Konoha, Suna merely sent us a strongly worded letter. That was all. In fact, _Temari_ was the one who ended up reprimanded instead. She was blamed for her mission’s failure and was demoted to Genin before being given mandatory retirement as punishment. This was actually rather serious for Temari, as only Chūnin and above could claim a pension when they retired in Suna’s ninja pension program.

As she had been legally declared dead decades ago, all of her assets and property in the village had been reabsorbed by Suna’s banks. Denied a pension, Temari was destitute. Unlike Ino she couldn’t even stay with family. Shinki allowed her to stay in his small estate for a while but it was clear that there was no familial affection there. Sooner or later she would be asked to leave and then Temari would end up begging on the streets. Truly a sad end.

But one day, our spies reported that Temari disappeared from the village. It seems she remembered some old tricks after all, because she was able to evade both our espionage teams and the Suna squad sent to ‘bring back the embarrassment’. I was rather close to retirement myself by this point, but I had more than enough influence to order someone try to locate where Temari went. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that Temari had _returned_ to the Land of Quarries. Curious, I ordered the agent charged with shadowing her to keep their distance but to take action if she tried to do anything untoward.

Within a day of her reaching the Capital. My agent restrained and captured Temari before she could smash a shopkeeper’s window. I was astonished when I heard the report. Why would Temari try to commit a _crime_ in my beloved country? She knew full well what punishment would be in store for her. Had her mind snapped? I ordered for my agent to bring her to my estate quietly. I was curious, I needed to know what was going through that pretty little head of hers.

Temari did not resist when she was brought before me, and even seemed somewhat relieved at seeing what she called ‘a familiar face’. She even remarked on how sad it was that I, in many ways her chief tormentor, had shown her more kindness than anyone back in her homeland. I never believed I would see her in person again, but such pleasantries would wait. I demanded to know what her intentions were.

Her sea-green eyes were still dulled and lifeless even after almost a year free of the Work Camps. She explained to me the dire straits she found herself in back in her home village, where she believed she would finally be safe. Her beloved brothers were long dead and no one else wanted anything to do with her. She had looked in on her old flame, Shikamaru Nara, but he had died too, and was married with kids even before his death. With no options left to her back home in Suna or in Konoha… she decided to come back here, to hurt us.

I could only raise an eyebrow at this. Even in her youth, with all of her power and skills at her command, she would have been unable to cause our nation much trouble. How did Temari think she could do this? I asked her as such.

Temari was an intelligent woman, she had noticed how her Warden would often brag to the guards that the Land of Quarries had a 100% rehabilitation rate. No one ever committed a crime again after coming out of the Work Camps, no one could suffer such a fate a second time. It was a source of national pride to us, and Temari wanted to break that perfect record.  The disgraced kunoichi was a woman with nothing to lose. She knew full well she wouldn’t be able to survive a second stay in the camps, but we would never be able to claim we had a 100% rehabilitation rate ever again. Her success was gone, her family was gone, her youth and beauty were gone… All she had left was petty revenge, and was prepared to suffer an agonizing death in the Work Camps to get it.

I stopped and considered Temari’s words for a time. I could not allow Temari to commit such an act, and by all rights I should have just had her quietly killed and buried in an unmarked grave. But I hesitated. I’ve mocked other guards for being sentimental in the past, but I fear I’ve also been infected by sentiment. I quickly devised another plan. I manoeuvred Temari to my office window to show her my estate’s courtyard. Through that window she would see a man in his early twenties carefully studying reports. A young man with sandy blond hair and sea green eyes. For the first time since she birthed him decades ago, Temari was seeing her son Shukra with her own eyes.

She stared at me, shock written across her face. I made my counterproposal. I would employ her as a servant for my household. She would receive a wage and would be able to spend as much time with Shukra as possible when not performing her duties. My son was aware of his heritage and would be receptive to reconnecting with her. She would be unable to leave my estate without an escort just in case she decided to carry out her insane petty revenge, but was free to leave the country whenever she wished. I told her I had a servant contract in my desk drawer, all she had to do was sign.

Temari stared at me for a long time, then gazed longingly at our son. Out of the over two dozen children she had birthed, he would be the only living family she would ever be able to know. And as sad as it was, I was the only person she knew that would be happy to have her around. She was still looking at Shukra when she asked that her servant contract be changed for a lifetime contract.

As of the end point of this particular report, Temari was still a servant in my estate, and would be for life at her own request. She traditionally cleans the halls and rooms or works in the garden whenever she wasn’t doting on Shukra. Prison life had destroyed what little skill at cooking she had, though she was determined to relearn how just so she could cook Shukra a meal and pretend to be a mother to him. It was a pity she was too old to pull off a proper maid’s uniform though. Ah well.

Year Thirty-Six – Hinata Hyūga:

Hinata Hyūga was once a goddess made flesh. A woman whose body looked like it was carved out of alabaster with titanic tits, baby birthing hips and an ass you could bounce a coin off of. A woman whose aristocratic beauty, special lavender eyes, and indigo tinted dark hair spurred the lust of any man who saw her. Hinata was a woman of the finest noble breeding, the heiress of one of the prestigious ninja clans in Konoha if not the world. In another life, she could very well have been the wife of Konoha’s most powerful Hokage, the ‘first lady’ of Konoha if you will, the greatest ninja village’s most revered woman.

Instead, she had spent the last thirty-six years being beaten, whipped and fucked ruthlessly every day and night of her pitiful criminal life. The noble lady she could have been was lost the instant she tried to commit a crime in our country. I bet not a day goes by where Hinata did not pray to have never set foot in our country. We have peeled away anything that remained of that young woman over her decades of rehabilitation.

Her future was taken first. Then her pride and virginity to our guards, men she would never have even glanced at before. Then her shame as she was forced to perform dirtier and more lurid acts to get the food she desperately needed. Then her bloodline as she whelped sons to become our warriors and daughters to become our whores. Then her courage as the resistance was ground out of her year by year. Then her faith as we revealed ‘proof’ that the source of her obsession had abandoned her. Then her mind as her psyche fractured from the harshness of prison life, becoming zealously devoted to being the best prisoner she could be. Finally, even her Madonna like beauty was taken, as age, harsh prison labour, and brutal punishments and fucking broke down her once fantastic body.

Now in her early fifties, only hints of Hinata’s once legendary beauty remained. Perhaps if she lived the soft, pampered life she _could_ have had in Konoha then her beauty would have been preserved, but that door had closed for Hinata a long time ago. Her ivory skin had been burned as brown as any other peasant worker. Her luxurious raven hair had been shorn away every year, and now when it did grow out it was completely silver. Her beauteous face had become more akin to a desperate cougar past her prime. Her once magnificent pair of breasts now sagged quite noticeably on her chest, and her once pristine holes had become loose and sloppy from decades of nightly use.

Yes for Hinata it was a sad state affairs. But there was occasionally an upside. Well, sometimes less horrible things occurred anyway. One thing that went in Hinata’s favour during her last six years of internment was that she could use some of her chakra again. Like Temari, our captive Hyūga was a model prisoner, so her chakra sealing brand was never refreshed. So now the brand has faded enough that she could use _some_ chakra again. It’s nothing compared to what she could access in her prime, but it does allow her to use her Byakugan again in a limited capacity.

Mentioned in one of our earliest reports was our annoyance at the missed opportunity we had to use Hinata’s Byakugan for mining purposes. Well, now the opportunity had come around again. Hinata was ordered by the guards to use her Byakugan to scan the quarry, searching for fault lines and rich veins of ore that could be mined. She complied with the guards orders with zealous obedience and thanks to her efforts productivity of Women’s Work Camp #4 increased by 130%. A savvier prisoner may have angled for increased privileges, but Hinata was too beaten down to even think of bargaining with the guards (except during nightly fucking, where it was expected). Thankfully, Hinata still received a paltry reward for her efforts with the Byakugan. Hinata spent an hour each day scanning the quarry, which was taken out of her work time. Therefore Hinata only had to work twelve hours a day and her work quota was also thoughtfully reduced to match the lowered hours. One hour less work doesn’t seem much to a free citizen like you or me, but to Hinata it felt like a gift from heaven. Hinata’s father was long dead by this point, but I imagine he would be rolling in his grave to learn that the Byakugan was being used for such mundane purposes like mining.

The extra chakra usage also helped Hinata to keep some of her old figure. Her breasts didn’t become empty sacks like most prisoners, and most of her muscles were still firm. It was useful to have a figure that didn’t _completely_ fall apart with age. It allowed Hinata to still draw upon a small but loyal group of ‘customers’ among the guards, which kept her from suffering from malnutrition.

She still performed her ‘other’ duties as well. Whenever one of Hinata’s daughters reached their eighteenth birthday, they were sent to her for training in ‘womanly ways’ as one report listed it. Once upon a time this drove the Hyūga cow to depressed tears, now it was just something she did. An opportunity to spend time with daughters she would never have got to meet otherwise. Over three decades of experience fucking every type of cock imaginable in every pose and position the guards’ immature minds could think of made Hinata an effective teacher. Hinata’s impressionable and malleable daughters – virtually all of them looking like clones of their mother save some different hair colours – lapped up whatever their mother had to teach. Literally, in the case of the cunnilingus lessons.

I believe that by the end of her sentence Hinata took a sort of perverse pride in teaching her daughters. How to masturbate in a way that pleased a man. How to give the best handjobs. How to supress your gag reflex, or how to tell when a man _wants_ you to gag on their cock. How to squeeze your cunt around a dick, and how to relax your rectum for anal play. She could teach it all, and in return we gained a cadre of spies that were unmatched.

Decades of experience combined with her once dynamite body had allowed the Hyūga bitch to become a true master in the art of pleasing a man. As a woman with a pitiful sense of self-worth, being truly _good_ at something - and being able to pass that skill along – uplifted her spirits. The fact that she was basically converting her daughters into prime whores didn’t seem to register anymore. But on the nights of perfect clarity, when she truly understood just what she had turned her daughters into… those nights she cried herself to sleep.

Ah well. It was all over for Hinata now. Her sentence was now complete at thirty-six years and I personally travelled to Women’s Work Camp #4 to tell her the good news. Yes, doing it in person, and Hinata being the last on the list I went to see added a little over a week to her sentence, but I’m sure she won’t notice. On this last leg of my journey I was joined by Hinata’s second son Hizashi, who wanted to be there personally when his mother was freed. Her eldest Hayato couldn’t be bothered.

Hinata was escorted to the Warden’s office and given the good news. Unlike the other three kunoichi, Hinata was sceptical. After all the Warden told her this a few years ago and that was just a lie. However, I assured the rehabilitated criminal that this time there was no ‘clerical mistake’ and that she was free to go. Hizashi echoed my sentiment and this time Hinata reacted as normal, crying out in joy and relief.

Hizashi provided his mother with her box of possessions personally, and removed her slave collar himself with a well struck chakra strike. As Hinata dressed in her old clothing, I realised that this would be the first time her own son had ever seen his mother with clothes on. Decades without clothing had made the clothing uncomfortable however, and Hinata was seen to be squirming at the now unfamiliar feeling.

Nevertheless, Hinata was overjoyed to be freed, and was happy to be escorted from the prison by one of her most loyal sons. Little did I know then that Hinata would never actually leave our glorious nation. Allow me to explain.

As Hinata was travelling with Vice Commander Hizashi of the Security Forces, her movements when she left Women’s Work Camp #4 are well documented. Hizashi was powerful enough to have his own automobile, one of the more modern on the market, and so Hinata was taken to the border in record time. Throughout the car ride, Hinata was silent and pensive, only engaging in conversation when prompted. It was clear to Hizashi that his mother was still a little shell-shocked from leaving the place that she had lived for over two thirds of her life.

It was when they arrived at the border that the difficulties began. Moments before she would have crossed the state line, Hinata finally snapped out of her fugue state and begged Hizashi not to let her go. She explained that she was too ashamed to return to Konoha. Too ashamed to face her clan with the knowledge of the humiliating acts she had performed and the sullying of their proud bloodline. Ashamed to face Naruto and whatever family he now had (she did not yet know he was dead). Ashamed that had she given the Byakugan to another country, breaking the Hyūga clan’s greatest taboo. She just couldn’t return to Konoha after everything that had happened to her.

Hizashi was a little put out that Hinata had unwittingly condemned him and his siblings in her outpouring of grief, but chose to let the matter drop. In truth he was glad to have her stay in the country, he knew he would never see her again if she returned to Konoha. He offered to let her stay with him, and Hinata was clearly tempted, but ultimately declined. Hinata was a strange person. While the state had declared herself rehabilitated of her crimes, Hinata did not see it that way. In her eyes she was a ruined woman, unfit to return to Konoha or to live with her son. Besides she knew it would cause tension between the sons that liked her company and those that resented her. Plus, she didn’t want to face her daughters after being at least partly responsible for ruining their potential, even if they were raised to want it that way.

Hinata wanted to atone for her own perceived sins. And eventually Hizashi found the perfect place. Near the border is a monastery devoted to worship of our state sanctioned gods. Shrine Maidens and Priests toil there to provide religious services and food for the local peasantry. Hizashi offered to take her there, and Hinata leapt at the opportunity.

The former kunoichi and former prisoner was allowed to join the monastery as a servant, as she was too old to become an acolyte. It was not an easy life, serving the demanding needs of the Shrine Maidens, but it was nothing compared to life in the Work Camps. The rough homespun robes she now wore were paltry compared to the silk garments she once possessed in her youth, but were far better than just a slave collar and boots. All in all, Hinata believed it was better than she deserved. As of the finishing point of this document she still resides at this monastery.

*

After compiling records and reports about these criminals for over thirty-six years, I felt it was only fitting to provide a ‘conclusion’ as it were.

These four kunoichi criminals once committed a severe crime in our nation. A grievous offence that meted a just punishment by our laws. Other nations may decry our punishments as ‘unfair’ or ‘draconian’, but we do not care for their bleating. These four kunoichi were once pillars of their society, heroines, women beyond compare, but **no one** is above the law. These women are shadows of their former selves, and they only have themselves to blame. However, that is all over now. They have been rehabilitated and are now docile and complaint members of society. In that manner they should be thanking us, the Work Camps have purged them of their criminal tendencies, making society safer.

I too must thank these formerly criminal kunoichi on behalf of my country. These four miscreants once tried to steal approximately fifteen tonnes of rare earth minerals from our nation (in various storage scrolls), but have more than paid that debt back. By our approximations their thirty-six years of quarry work averaged at 500 kilograms of quarry stone mined per day (minus days spent convalescing for pregnancies). In total our four Kunoichi have provided our nation with over 19,000 tonnes of stone mined by their very hands to pay off their debt to society. Such stone, mined so cheaply by prisoner slave labour has turned over a massive profit.

Also, combined the four kunoichi have birthed over one hundred citizens for our nation. Almost all of them have become successful and productive members of society, aiding the productivity of the nation they tried to hurt. Of course there were a few bad eggs like Mebuki, but as a whole the kunoichi’s children have become a great asset to our society.

Finally, I personally have to give thanks to these four delinquent women. Before their criminal intrusion into our nation, my position in the Ministry was a minor one. Such a high profile case falling under my jurisdiction at the time greatly raised my prestige among my peers. Without those four wenches it would have taken me much longer to climb the ladder. Not to mention that one of them has birthed my favourite son and successor Shukra. For that, those four former kunoichi will have my eternal thanks.

End Report – Signed by Chief Exterior Minister Saishō.


	10. Epilogue

Addendum – Several Years Later

This is an addendum to the original reports written by my father, the former Chief Exterior Minister, before his retirement. I am the new Minister of Foreign Affairs, Shukra. And after several requests from top Ministry members, I have filed this additional report summarising what happened to the four former inmates some years after their sentence was complete.

Epilogue – Sakura Haruno

Sakura Haruno was an odd case. She was the very first prisoner to _ever_ request to stay in the Work Camp they were assigned to. The fact she did it out of love for her daughter was commendable, but it would also sign her death warrant.

At first, no one knew what to make of this strange, clearly insane, woman who remained in the camps despite being allowed to go free. The guards treated her quite gingerly at first, but the Warden explained that they should just treat her like any other prisoner, and things went back to normal. Although when she first came to the guard barracks to receive her first wage packet for her quarry labour it caused quite the stir. The fee she was given was a pittance, as rent for her sleeping pallet, her gruel, doctor’s visits, and shower were deducted from it. However, Sakura was now still far and away the richest woman in the camp for the virtue of even _having_ money. Sakura still whored herself out for food, as there were several guards who still found her comely even as she advanced in age, but now she could also pay for food like a regular person. She couldn’t afford much on her salary, but it did keep her from having to share her sleeping pallet with anyone except Mebuki for days at a time.

Speaking of Mebuki, the younger prisoner was _horrified_ when she discovered what her mother had done for her sake. She would beg her mother often for weeks at a time to leave this place, and every time Sakura refused. Eventually Mebuki grew resigned to the fact that Sakura would never leave her, and took comfort in her mother’s presence. The two women would share a sleeping pallet and hold each other tightly.

Mebuki often prayed that she would have no more children and extend her sentence, and therefore keep her aging mother in this harsh place any longer than she would have to. Of course that would not be the case, by the time of Sakura’s ‘release’ Mebuki was still in her mid-thirties and was still just as fertile as her mother at that age. She would go on to have several more children for almost another decade. This ultimately extended her total remaining sentence to thirteen years and three months, rather than the eleven years and six months my father projected in his final report on the matter.

Still, Sakura was foolishly confident she would walk out of this camp with Mebuki hand in hand. My father always reported that this former kunoichi was a stubborn wench. I have little doubt that she would have succeeded despite the fact she would have been in her sixties by the time Mebuki would be freed. However, that all changed when the Prison Camp admitted a new batch of prisoners, one of which being Sarada Haruno, Sakura’s granddaughter and Mebuki’s eldest child.

My father briefly touched on the matter in his last report, but I shall go into greater detail here. Sarada Haruno showed just as much talent and potential as her mother and grandmother, but unlike them she did not join the Security Forces or the Ministry of Health. She went into politics. A persuasive and passionate speaker, Sarada gained a following among the people even at the tender age of eighteen and began lobbying for radical reforms. She pushed for the implementation of a relatively new concept that was attempted disastrously in the Land of Tea called ‘democratic elections’. Not only that, she also called for a total overhaul of our prison system. She would often declare to whoever would listen the deplorable conditions of our prison camps. Citing that she herself was a ‘prison orphan’ and that her own mother and grandmother still languish in the camps to this day.

While her ideas were nonsense, her rhetoric was so passionate that she was gaining followers for her ridiculous ideas. However, she was still acting in the bounds of the law as a free citizen, she had committed no crime for making her nonsense views public. This, of course, changed when a large crowd of people Sarada was rallying during her bid to be appointed to a Ministry position went wild and caused a riot. As she was the head of this rally, Sarada was arrested by Security Forces and tried in closed court for political agitation, inciting rebellion against the government, and destruction of property. She was obviously found guilty and sentenced to twenty-five years hard labour in Women’s Work Camp #1. She had often used her mother and grandmother as examples in her speeches; now she would get to live with them for the next several decades or so of her life.

The rumours of senior aids to Ministry officials within the crowd inciting a riot were never substantiated.

Coincidentally, I actually held the same post my father did when the four kunoichi were originally sentenced. Since Sarada was a direct blood relative of one of those kunoichi, I made it a point to be there personally during her processing. She was beautiful in the classical sense. High cheekbones, full lips, and green eyes. She was a bit slenderer than Sakura had been in the photos I had seen of her at that age, but I’m sure some hard labour would fill her out. Her hair was actually black, but there were pink highlights naturally running through it to reveal her criminal ancestry. I’m sure the guards would enjoy her.

She also wouldn’t stop talking. Sarada seemed to think that she could bludgeon the guards processing her for prison life with words alone. Honestly if she had a few hours it may have even worked, the woman had a tongue that could cut through stone and a voice that could be heard for miles. But we have dealt with uppity criminal sows before, and being stripped, deloused, sheared and branded tended to shut anyone up. To witness such a fierce woman be reduced to a sobbing shaking mess was… stimulating, I now understand what my father was talking about.

Regardless, after a swift processing, Sarada was whisked off to Women’s Work Camp #1. Like Sakura before her, Mebuki could tell almost immediately that Sarada was her offspring and rushed to help her in this new chapter of her life, with Sakura following suit. Sarada did not take the transition from rising political star to lowly criminal wench easily, but Mebuki and Sakura did everything they could to ease Sarada into her new existence. 

This was to be an experiment of sorts. We had a long standing policy of keeping relatives apart in separate work camps but Sakura and Mebuki’s example was so successful we wanted to see if it could be repeated for another generation. It was always difficult to change policy, but I personally championed the experiment – and reaped the dividends when the experiment proved successful.

Sakura, Mebuki and Sarada become a unit in the prison. They worked together, they showered together, they slept together, and when Sarada’s initial reluctance was worn down they fucked alongside one another. Sakura and Mebuki had been thoroughly broken into the prison system, and they did not try to shield Sarada from whoring herself to the guards, as Sakura tried with Mebuki. Indeed, they encouraged it as it meant more food for the family. Sarada resented her mother and grandmother for coercing her into giving up her dignity and virginity at first. But quickly grew to enjoy fucking the guards as much as any prisoner when she realised it was her only source of pleasure in the camp. It actually became quite the attraction among the guards. Though Sakura was no longer the great beauty in her youth, guards flocked to have the experience of fucking three generations of the same family in one night. The experience of having the mature cougar Sakura, the woman in her sexual prime Mebuki, and the budding flower that was Sarada all in one night was something the guards spoke of with awe. There were many transfer requests from guards from other camps for Women’s Work Camp #1 just to try it.

Sarada was just as rebellious as her grandmother used to be, but the experienced Sakura and Mebuki quickly talked her out of any attempts at defiance. They showed her the whipping scars and the chakra brands and explained the tortures they could inflict on the young woman, and Sarada wised up swiftly. She had already felt the lash in her first few days in the camp (all prisoners are whipped sometime in their first week to acclimatise them to their new life) and had no desire to have her back and buttocks be latticed like her mother and grandmother’s. Another successful outcome of the experiment. It took _years_ for Sakura to become as obedient as Sarada had in just one year. Having elders in the camp with a blood connection to dampen delinquent behaviour and promote compliance was a real eye-opener to the senior Ministers; there was already talk to replicating the feat in other camps.

I looked in on Sarada every year or so, and watched as she went from a defiant young woman to an institutionalized criminal whore. As my father had written about how enjoyable the kunoichi were in bed (something I somewhat regret reading about in my own mother’s file) I decided to sample Sarada myself. Roughly five years into her own sentence, and now in her twenties Sarada’s body had indeed filled out after brutal manual labour to pack on muscle and multiple pregnancies to widen her hips and expand her bust. Bronzed by the sun and with the fire in her green eyes guttered out, she was beautiful. Knowing that her beauty would be fleeting after another ten or so years in the camp, I took her then and there. Feeling her still tight cunt squeeze down on my cock as she moaned and writhed beneath me was one of the best experiences of my life. The fact that her own mother and grandmother were watching us as we fucked added to the experience, especially as they kept giving Sarada advice on the best way to please me.

I rewarded the pack of them with a box of sweet pastries each. Watching them devour them like animals was almost as satisfying as the sex. At Sakura’s urging, Sarada gave me one more blowjob to ‘thank’ me for the generous gift. In another life, Sarada could have been a major political rival, so having her suck me off in gratitude for some pastries was simply marvellous. It was clear from the feel of her warm lips and tongue that she had learned her lessons from her mother and grandmother well. As she deepthroated my cock I thanked Sakura and Mebuki for training their descendent to be such a fantastic whore. I said it to see the shame in their eyes, but I was surprised to find none. I suppose that made sense. They’ve been criminal whores _far_ longer than they’ve been anything else. Why should they feel ashamed for teaching Sarada what had become the family trade?

An interesting note, just like my father before me, Sarada would birth a child after our rendezvous together. The boy was tested to be mine, and I took him in to be raised in my household.

So, the experiment had been a success so far. Thanks to blood relatives in the prison, the fierce Sarada had lost her defiance in record time. Her productivity in the quarry was quick to increase thanks to personal tutoring – and her skills in bed were phenomenal due to having two masters in the art coach her from the start. However, there was one final goal of the experiment that we had to wait for. Sakura had sacrificed her freedom for Mebuki, would Mebuki do the same for Sarada when her own sentence had officially expired?

Of course she did. Like Sakura before her, Mebuki could not abandon her daughter to languish in the camps alone. How could she show any less love for her daughter than her own mother did for her? Sarada had at _least_ another decade or so in the prison, and Mebuki volunteered to stay for that duration just like Sakura had for her. We had created a more formal version of the ad-hoc contract my father had made for Sakura, and Mebuki signed her potential freedom away with a few tears and a sad smile. With that, we had proved that having blood relatives in the prison could potentially be a great thing if managed properly. It would take a few more test cases and a few generations to see potential, but the Ministry of justice was patient.

While we had celebrated for this triumph over three generations of the same wicked family, it spelled bad news for Sakura. As Mebuki stayed for Sarada, Sakura continued to stay for both her daughter and granddaughter. But after another thirteen years for Mebuki’s sentence to officially end, Sakura was now in her mid-sixties. Easily the oldest person still in the camp. And as Sarada’s sentence would last for at least another thirteen years, Sakura’s prognosis for surviving the prison camp into her seventies was not looking good.

Both her daughter and granddaughter begged for Sakura to leave, but Sakura refused. But it was not just out of love for them, not anymore. Sakura had spent almost her entire life in the Work Camps by this point. As horrible and twisted and cruel as it was, it was her home now. It was the place her family lived. Even as she became too old to do even her reduced workload. Even as she could no longer find any willing partners unless it was sucking off a guard after they had been pleased by her daughter or granddaughter. Even as guards occasionally beat her for being a ‘lazy old grandma’. She was now too institutionalized to imagine life outside of her prison.

Eventually Sakura passed away after a brief illness at seventy-three. She had spent well over fifty years in the prison camps by this point, and her body and mind had borne the scars. Before the end her body had become thin and haggard, with saggy empty breasts and thin white hair. Most of her teeth had fallen out and her brilliant green eyes had become pale as her once fierce intelligence sputtered into senility. She was mourned by her family, who wept as she breathed her last on the same fetid sleeping pallet she had slept on for over five decades. Mebuki’s tears were particularly bitter as she foresaw this could be her fate if something (or someone) caused Sarada’s stay in the camps to be extended.

Sakura died never knowing freedom again. As she was considered something of a mascot by the guards and the new Warden, she was buried in the prison that had tortured her for almost her entire life. Not even in death would Sakura leave the work camp. Her headstone would be routinely cleaned by an aging Mebuki and Sarada, just before they would do their nightly duties of sexual relief for the guards. After all, the prison system continues as normal, the death of one ‘volunteer’ inmate changes nothing.

I admit to gaining promotion and advancement from my participation in the ‘family experiment’, which has since been implemented in other camps. The new experiment, which will likely continue past my own lifetime is to see how many generations we can continue it. Indeed, Sakura’s headstone may not remain lonely forever. Sarada had birthed as many children as her mother and grandmother… and one of her daughters is _quite_ the rebel…

Epilogue – Ino Yamanaka

It was odd to reflect that of the four kunoichi, Ino Yamanka was the only one to return to her homeland and stay there. It perhaps suggested that of the criminals my father monitored, Ino was the sanest. She was also the hardest to collate a final report for due to her being outside of our general circle of influence. However my clerks and I have managed to piece together a complete picture.

Ino Yamanaka did not have an easy life outside of the work camp. Once she was the princess of the Yamanka clan. Indeed, reports state that as soon as her mission in the Land of Quarries was meant to be completed she was going to ascend to the rank of clan head. Instead she spent thirty-six years in a prison labour camp as just punishment for her crimes. When she had finally returned to her home, it was to a Konoha that had drastically changed in her decades of absence. Many of the great heroes of her generation had either retired or died, and the Yamanaka clan had long since moved on with different leadership.

The new clan head of the Yamanaka clan was uninterested in giving up power to this chakra-less old woman. Ino found herself without friends or allies in the new Konoha able to help her, and she was soon relegated to a small room at the edge of the clan compound. No one was particularly cruel to her. Servants came to tend to her needs, and she was fed and cared for, but it was quite clear that she was a pariah in her own home. However, my father always said that Ino was a wily bitch, and she refused to let herself cower and eventually pass away in that little room like the current clan head wanted.

First of all, Ino reached out to her remaining living friends. Shikamaru Nara had been killed around the same time Naruto was, but Chōji Akimichi was still alive, albeit retired from active duty. He was one of the few who advocated for war with the Land of Quarries to avenge his former teammate, but was voted down. Seeing that the Yamanaka clan was trying to sweep Ino under the rug as it were, her old teammate allowed her to live with his family. There Ino was given a much warmer welcome. Good food from the Akimichi clan and several treatments from medical ninja paid for by a guilty Chōji allowed Ino to restore a semblance of her lost beauty and figure.

There Ino sought to pick up the pieces of her life, but there she failed. There just wasn’t enough pieces left. Chōji was a good friend, but decades of separation had strained that friendship. A few other survivors from her generation, like Shino Aburame, Ino was never on good terms with to begin with. Ino _did_ try to restart a romance that had just begun before she left with a man known only as Sai. But that was doomed before it began. Sai had become emotionally detached after decades of shinobi service and after the loss of too many friends. A report stated that while he agreed to give a sexual relationship with Ino a chance, he was too uncomfortable with it. Ino was reported to have fucked the man with a desperate abandon that did not match her age, desperately trying to kindle a flame long gone out. Our reports stated that while Sai admitted the sex was enjoyable, he just couldn’t feel anything for her now. It wasn’t long before Sai called the whole thing off, leaving Ino in tears.

Since romance seemed completely out of the picture, Ino decided to change tactics and secure funds for a new life. Ino’s personal assets had been reclaimed by the bank and by her clan years ago when she was declared dead, but she refused to remain penniless. She could not rely off of the kindness of friends forever. While her clan wanted nothing to do with her, there was still a lot of guilt among the Village leadership about their inability to discover the kunoichi’s imprisonment. Using that guilt, Ino successfully lobbied the Village leadership for financial compensation. Wanting to bury the embarrassing matter and forget about it, the new Hokage allotted Ino quite a substantial sum of money.

As there seemed to be little left for her in Konoha, Ino left the village with her granted funds and moved to Tanzaku Gai. It was one of the largest cities in the Land of Fire and a place known for its seedy underbelly. The money Ino wheedled out of the new Hokage allowed her to purchase a rather large building, which she quickly had renovated into a… gentleman’s club. After decades of prison life, the only thing Ino was still good at was whoring. Indeed, sex seemed to be her natural talent above all others, including her long forgotten skills in ninjutsu. Decades of being a prime whore gave Ino all the tools she needed to become one of the premier brothel madams in Tanzaku Gai.

She quickly developed an ironclad strategy that propelled her business to success. Ino would take in young women down on their luck off of the street. She would care for them like a mother, nurse them back to health, shower them with expensive gifts and clothes… and then explained that they would have to pay her back. She would then pretty them up and then ruthlessly train them with all of her thirty-six years of experience in pleasing men and women. Many of these women tried to leave, but Ino had learned just how to keep someone imprisoned. Her ‘girls’ owned nothing that Ino did not provide for them, and the only way to leave was to buy back their ‘debt’ from the madam. The only way the girls could do that was to whore themselves out in the brothel. All the while, unbeknownst to Ino’s ‘employees’, she was charging them rent for living in her cathouse, extending their debt further. Indeed, reports state that few girls left Ino’s establishment by choice. In fact many who whored long enough to pay off their debt stayed anyway, as they had become addicted to sex and the extravagant lifestyle Ino could provide her ‘favourites’.

Soon Ino’s brothel, ‘The House of Flowers’, became _the_ place to visit in Tanzaku Gai. The whores were always exceptionally well trained, and were desperate to please. Plus, despite being well into her winter years, Ino herself still occasionally whored herself, and always commanded a high price. Many would pay, as her skill in carnal pleasure dwarfed even her best girl despite her depleted looks. The money from hundreds of patrons swelled Ino’s coffers further, making her one of the richest women in the city. She expanded her operations into a proper bar and lounge, even picking up legitimate trade. Eventually, she even opened an underground casino beneath the brothel increasing her wealth even further. Many wealthy young ladies ended up losing everything in this secret place and would be forced to join Ino’s stable of whores. Rumours of Ino rigging those particular games were never proven.

A clerk who was compiling the report with me pointed out the irony that Ino had essentially reduced women to prisoners in her brothel. However, I doubt Ino saw it that way. Her whores, unwilling or not, were much better cared for, with better food, glamorous clothes and sumptuous rooms. They didn’t have to work thirteen hour labour shifts and spent most of their time on their backs or on their knees, with customers who paid them actual _money_ (though Ino took most of that). The Ino from a few decades ago would have killed for a life like that compared to her life in the camps.

Still, despite her wealth, as Ino grew older she was reported to have become more and more miserable. She very occasionally wrote letters to Kantoku, begging the man to let her meet the children she bore him, but never received a reply. She was too afraid to travel to the Land of Quarries to meet them herself, so she would never meet any of her children. Interestingly, she was the only kunoichi criminal to never encounter any of her children in one capacity or another. Her unfulfilled yearning to meet her children would drive Ino into bouts of alcohol fuelled despair. On these benders Ino would frequently hire male prostitutes (as she had difficulty finding willing partners after she entered her late sixties) to fuck her in the most obscene and humiliating ways. I suppose Ino was feeling homesick for the prison she had spent most of her life in.

Still, while Ino may have felt her life was unfulfilling, she was very rich indeed. Yes her wealth was built on the backs of women she had essentially forced into prostitution, but she didn’t seem to care. Ino had gone from a depraved imprisoned whore, to a woman who imprisoned others into debt slavery and turned others into whores just like herself. Currently Ino was in her seventies, and showing every one of those years. A wrinkled thin old woman who many do a spit take when they see a picture of her in her prime and wonder how they could be the same person. She lived the empty life of a brothel madam, peddling mostly unwilling flesh to the highest bidder. Though I doubt this life would continue much longer, considering the truly staggering amount of alcohol Ino put away. I personally think she was trying to drown any memories she had of the vivacious, beautiful girl she used to be. A girl who would be horrified of the elderly madam who abused other women in much the same way she was abused. I’m not quite certain this was the lesson the Work Camps were intended to teach, but Ino’s many patrons were happy, so I suppose that was all that mattered.

Epilogue – Hinata Hyūga

I have decided to shuffle the order my father traditionally placed these reports in for this last section to better serve narrative flow.

Hinata Hyūga was by many accounts a fragile woman. Oh she had inner strength, before the work camps ground it out of her, but all of that inner fire required a pillar to latch onto. In her youth that was Naruto Uzumaki, a paragon and ideal that she pinned her hopes and dreams to, and in turn drew strength. However, when that option became unviable in the camps she latched onto the only remaining ideal left to her; being a good prisoner. For the most part, Hinata performed admirably as an inmate, working zealously both in the quarries by day and serving the guards at night. She would even tutor her own daughters in the art of the bedroom, helping our glorious nation create one of the greatest spy rings on the continent. Truly, Hinata threw herself into being a repentant criminal slut.

But all of that ended when Hinata was released. She couldn’t be a good prisoner if she wasn’t a prisoner any more, but unlike Sakura she wasn’t insane enough to want to stay. Once again, she had no pillar to lean on. Therefore in hindsight it was obvious she would turn to religion.

Hinata originally turned to the monastery at Hizashi’s recommendation, but quickly grew to genuinely love her place there. My father mentioned it in a previous report, but priests infrequently visited the Work Camps to proselytize our state religion, often gaining converts. Hinata attended these sermons like many other prisoners, and had converted to the state faith for the free bread roll that was given to all prisoners who did. But she had no actual attachment to our religion back then, she was too focused on being the best prisoner she could be. Now that that part of her life was finally over, however, then Hinata threw all of her zealous devotion to the faith she had once converted to just for food.

Employed as a servant, Hinata was charged with menial duties. Three and a half decades of prison life had destroyed whatever skill she may have had in cooking, so her main duty was cleaning the halls and chambers of the monastery. A noblewoman like Hinata would have baulked at scrubbing floors once, but after decades of prison labour this was almost heavenly to the reformed criminal. That was not all of course, as a member of the monastery she was obligated to join in with prayers, and she threw herself into them. Reports from the Head Priest of the monastery state that Hinata was a very zealous convert. Sometimes she would be the first to enter the prayer hall and the last to leave. The priests were too polite to ask Hinata what she prayed for, but it was state policy to have intelligence agents in all of our institutions, so we knew anyway. The Hyūga woman prayed for forgiveness and absolution for her crimes. It was interesting, the state had deemed her rehabilitated, but Hinata had not allowed herself to be forgive. In a world where all of her hopes and dreams had been ruthlessly crushed, she clung onto her guilt, the only thing she had left.

Although, that wasn’t strictly true. Hinata did have _one_ other thing left; her family. Hizashi would occasionally visit the monastery with several of his brothers, and Hinata was glad for the company. Himawari would also visit often. Now that her tour of duty as an intelligence agent was over, she had a lot more time on her hands. Yes, she was constantly pregnant now that she had taken over her mother’s unofficial role as broodmare of our own personal Hyūga clan, but Hinata didn’t seem to mind. I suppose Hinata had spent so much time pregnant herself that she sometimes forgets that this was not a natural state for women.

Himawari had become Hinata’s replacement in a lot of roles. Now that her mother was free and not obligated to serve our demands, Himawari was now the teacher of her younger sisters when they turned eighteen. She was just as skilled as Hinata was in her prime when it came to the carnal arts, and so our steady supply of female Hyūga spies remained unbroken. Indeed, we fully expect that Himawari will teach her own daughters when they come of age.

She truly was a remarkable fuck too. My father arranged for the first child she bore when she retired from espionage to be mine. The son she birthed me may quite possibly become my successor, though he would have to compete with the boy Sarada gave me for the position. A thought occurs, I was the child of one of the kunoichi, and have fathered children with the granddaughter and daughter of two of the other four kunoichi. I shall it make a point to form a liaison with one of Ino’s unattached daughters or granddaughters just to ‘complete the set’ as it were. Father would be proud.

Of course, now that I’ve mentioned Hinata’s children, I now have to mention her _other_ family: The Hyūga clan of Konoha. Specifically, their reaction when they discovered just what had happened to their prospective heiress for the last thirty-six years.

I maintain that our nation was incredibly fortunate regarding the international reaction to our imprisonment of the four kunoichi. Yes, by our own laws we were fully in our rights to treat them as the criminals they were, but I doubt such justifications would have mattered to someone like Naruto Uzumaki. If he had still lived when Hinata and the others were freed I am sure he would have scorched our country clean of life in his rage. Our security forces are mighty indeed, but they would not have been able to stop the man everyone called the mightiest Hokage. Fortunately, his replacement was a vacillating peace monger, and we avoided being forced to commit to military action.

However, while the new Hokage was uninterested in pursuing vengeance, the Hyūga clan were not. They were a proud and prestigious noble family. They had seen the state Ino was in, and learned that Ino had birthed as many children as she could bare until she was barren. They _knew_ Hinata would have been forced to do the same, birthed dozens of little Hyūga children outside of their control. It was completely unacceptable to them, and something had to be done.

The Hyūga clan’s head elder, Hinata’s own sister Hanabi, tried at first to be at least somewhat civil. She and her son, the clan head, wrote Hinata several letters requesting that she return to Konoha. If Hinata had been moved by these letters, she did not show it, and remained at the monastery. It was just as well, the clan would have certainly interrogated Hinata as to the identity of any of her children she could identify so they could be eliminated.

After Hanabi’s letter campaign had failed, we began to experience incursions at the border. Shinobi who _may or may not_ be members of the Hyūga clan attempted on multiple occasions to infiltrate our nation. We’re uncertain of their goals, but it was likely that they were tasked with abducting Hinata back to the Land of Fire and eliminating any of her children they could find. Of course, our own valiant Security Forces, themselves _led_ by Hinata’s eldest sons were easily able to fend off these pathetic attacks on our nation.

While most of the shinobi who were captured by our Security Forces committed suicide rather than reveal their allegiance, one kunoichi was subdued and had her chakra sealed before she could do so. Ironically this young female Hyūga would spend the next several decades in a prison camp for the crimes of espionage and attempted murder of our Security Forces. History repeats itself. This young woman was reported to be quite pretty indeed, though not quite the goddess Hinata was in her prime. I’m sure she would raise morale for the guards of Women’s Work Camp #2 after she was properly broken in.

As the Hyūga had acted on their own, they couldn’t make too much of a fuss when their attacks were defeated. As for Hinata, we ensured she never discovered what her old clan tried to do. She continued scrubbing floors and serving priests and shrine-maidens without a care in the world.

Hinata remained at the monastery for a little over a decade. Reportedly she rather enjoyed her life there. She relearned how to cook and found the life of a servant very relaxing compared to her life as a prisoner. Over time she let go of some of her self-imposed guilt. Finally, when she was in her late sixties her daughter Himawari convinced her to live with her in the small estate she was granted for decades of service to our nation.

Now in her late forties, Himawari’s breeding days were over and was looking forward to a blissful retirement of teaching her daughters and granddaughters, along with some casual sex. The estate was small by my standards, but it was large enough for Himawari, several of her sisters, and many of their daughters to live comfortably. Hinata’s sons (those who remained single) had their own estate close by. Hinata was reported to have been uncomfortable with her daughters’ lifestyle at first, but soon found herself enjoying the role of playing grandma and great-grandma to a whole new generation of ‘Quarry Hyūga’. By day she would bake cinnamon rolls and cookies for the younger children, and by night she would assist her eldest daughters in the younger girls’ ‘education’ in the carnal arts when they turned eighteen. She was too old to participate, of course, but the old woman Hinata had become would still call out advice to her granddaughters and later her great-granddaughters as they fucked and sucked their first man. Under Hinata’s watchful eye, her descendants would train to become the next generation of spies for our glorious nation. Eventually we predict that there would not be a red-light district anywhere in the world where we do not have a Hyūga slut reporting back to us.

As of the closing points of this report, Hinata was still living in the female Hyūga estate. Now in her late seventies, she was revered as the matriarch of her family, and loved almost universally by her children and grandchildren. The only exception, strangely, was her eldest son Hayato and a few of his followers. Hinata even now made pilgrimages to the monastery she lived in for so long after her sentence, and could still sometimes be known to sweep the floors of the halls for old times’ sake. Many considered it strange, but no one stopped her. After all, her womb had given our nation so much, letting an elderly woman have her eccentricities was the least we could do.

Epilogue – Temari Sabaku

Now we turn to the last of the kunoichi criminals my father monitored. My own mother, Temari Sabaku.

As my father reported in his final document for this case, Temari did indeed take up a position as a servant in my family’s estate. Despite being my father’s favourite woman, she officially held a low ranking among the household servants, often being reduced to maid work despite her advanced age. I believe this was an attempt to avoid whispers made by the extended members of our family that we were treating an ex-convict like a true member of the household. Nevertheless, Temari worked hard as a common servant, the basic work she had to do nothing compared to working in the quarries.

I was fully aware that Temari agreed to stay with my father as his servant so she could spend time with me. I confess to feeling somewhat uneasy at first. I had never had a mother, I had women who raised me when my father was busy, but no one who treated me like a son. However, I admit that I enjoyed being doted on by the woman. Whenever I was nearby she would drop everything (even if she would later be punished by the head servant) to look after my every need. I was essentially the only family she had left, and she lavished all of her love and care on me. It was quite flattering, even if her first attempts at baking a birthday cake tasted like cardboard. She promised she would bake one for every year she had missed, and later attempts were far more palatable.

Of course, while she lavished all of her love on me, all of her lust was given to my father. When she wasn’t doing maid work or waiting on me hand and foot she was warming my father’s bed. My father had had many lovers in his life, as was his privilege from a distinguished career, but Temari was one of his favourites. As they got older the lovemaking became less passionate and frenzied. Most of the time nowadays Temari literally just warmed my father’s bed, someone for him to grab onto in sleep. I had seen the reports about my mother’s background, I know she was ninja royalty and once a leader of thousands in a now legendary war. But now she was my father’s hot water bottle, a once mighty woman almost literally objectified.

To answer a question posted to me by a junior clerk: Making a report including a discussion about my biological parents’ sex life has only been mildly traumatising.

I left Temari for last as my files are (understandably) the most up-to-date for her. Detailed reports for Sakura ended at her death, Ino was drinking as much as she could to follow her childhood rival, and Hinata had become a non-entity sequestered in the ‘Quarry Hyūga’ compound. Tasking clerks to collate reports past their seventies was becoming a waste of resources. However, I obviously have records for Temari that stretch a little longer. She was my mother after all, and I lived on the same estate as her.

The years went by quickly. Temari had much better living conditions as our household servant than she did in the prison, so the degradation of her once famous beauty had halted. Still, unless genjutsu was involved no woman in their late seventies look good. Temari was truly an old woman by this point, shrunken and wrinkled. She still served, but no longer did anything strenuous. Indeed, nowadays Temari looked after the children in the household, many of them my own from various liaisons I have had with several women. As the vast majority of them were her own grandchildren, she doted on them just like she did with me. The children she looked after adored her almost universally, and affectionately called her ‘Old Nan’ for her age… and for the fanciful stories she told them.

For you see, the Fifth Shinobi War which claimed the lives of so many heroes from Temari’s generation was the _last_ Shinobi war. It was a short war, as wars go, but so devastating and bloody that the other ninja villages became practically timid when it came to foreign relations. They danced around each other, afraid to provoke another conflict. The vacillating new leadership of Konoha was proof of that. No other Hokage would have so easily let our treatment of their criminal kunoichi pass, but this new era of timid peace had defanged any response they sent us.

The shinobi’s fear of another major conflict was not the only problem the ninja village’s faced. Technology had greatly improved over the decades, with the Land of Quarries being a main exporter of materials that helped create and power many new inventions. Who needed an expensive shinobi on an escort mission when everything was transported in armoured trains or automobiles? Who needed a costly ninja courier or trained ninja animal to deliver messages when information could be transferred from the new-fangled ‘internet’? Who needed to pay exorbitant fees to hire shinobi warriors (who were nowadays reluctant to enter conflicts anyway) when weapons like these new ‘guns’ were becoming widespread?

Business had faded for ninja. The golden age of the shinobi was over. The most work ninja villages have nowadays were infiltration missions. Most of these missions forced kunoichi to become spies in pleasure dens and decadent courts, just like the whores they may have once looked down upon a generation before. But even there the ninja villages were stymied. Many daughters from our imprisoned kunoichi (including all of Hinata’s daughters as mentioned earlier in the report) had already been raised from young to take this role. A village like Suna, for example, found that their kunoichi infiltrators could not compete with our specially bred whores. So many sources of information (most of whom were very happy and well fucked men) were taken by us.

Perhaps if the dynamic and charismatic Naruto Uzumaki had not been killed during the ‘Kawaki Incident’ then this would never have happened, but we will never know.

I have gone off on a little bit of a tangent. Suffice to say that Temari, or ‘Old Nan’ as she was known now would have many wide eyed children listen raptly as she told them stories of her youth as a kunoichi. She was adored for these tales, but very rarely believed as the children grew older. How could such people exist in these modern times? Surely the stories of shinobi were exaggerated? How could the feeble old granny that told them such wonderful stories have been such an amazing woman in her past? One of my younger half-siblings even confronted me about how ‘Old Nan’ was senile and making up silly stories about her fake past. I tried to clear up the situation by showing my half-sibling a photograph of Temari that was taken during her trial and just before her processing. However, the young, powerful and beautiful woman in that photo looked so different from the broken crone that Temari became from her time in prison that my sibling just couldn’t believe it. It appears that Temari was fated to spend her last living years as an elderly caretaker for a group of children who love her, but all believe her to be a senile old liar.

At the most recent update to this report. Temari was still servant in my household. She had no more physical duties considering her advanced age, but was still a popular story teller to the estate’s children. Of course, I say _my_ household as my father had now since passed away peacefully in his sleep. It was truly a loss for our great nation. Even the Prime Minister attended his funeral.

One of Temari’s only remaining duties was to keep his grave and memorial shrine clean and tidy. Occasionally she could be spotted weeping as she cared for it. My father was the only man who was not her brothers or me that had ever shown her even a spark of compassion. To a woman who had been broken in the camps, that compassion had earned him her devotion, and her grief at his loss.

*

Like my father before me I shall end this revised document with some parting words.

It has been over fifty years since these four kunoichi were sentenced to the prison camps. I myself have risen from strength to strength, reaching high office as my father once dreamed for me. The four kunoichi were no so fortunate, not even my own mother. One only found freedom in death. The other three managed to serve their time but most of whatever made them the brilliant women they were was broken forever. It was indeed a fitting example of what happens to those who dare commit a crime in our nation.

I am glad that this document has since become required reading for aspiring Ministers. It is a worthy legacy for my father’s distinguished career, and the fact that I was able to contribute to this was a great honour. There have even been talks to make some of the documents public among the masses, especially now that the power of the Hidden Villages were waning. I am sure the kunoichi would have been humiliated having their shame made public, but the ones still living have either withdrawn from the world or were busy trying to drink themselves to death.

I had an opportunity to go through all of the data we had collected one last time before I wrote the last entry in this document. I happened upon a picture of all four kunoichi just before their processing. All four of them were visions of beauty. Body’s sculpted like gymnasts but with far better curves than a gymnast could boast. Gorgeous faces and fierce eyes.

Then I saw pictures of them by the end of their official prison sentences. Old, saggy, hollow cheeked and blank eyed. It was a shame that such beauty and brilliance had be destroyed, but no criminal goes unpunished, not even the greatest of women.

On behalf of my father and I, I thank everyone for reading, and hope you derived some enjoyment from the kunoichi’s struggles. Anyone who has read this document will think twice about committing a crime in the glorious nation of the Land of Quarries!

Signed – Minister of Foreign Affairs Shukra of the Land of Quarries


End file.
